


Hold You Down

by IncessantOblivion



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Bottom Oikawa Tooru, Drama & Romance, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Forbidden Love, Heavy Angst, M/M, Minor Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Minor Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio, Minor Shimizu Kiyoko/Yachi Hitoka, Minor Violence, Rimming, Romance, Romantic Soulmates, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Soulmates, Top Iwaizumi Hajime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-26 02:12:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 25,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6219583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncessantOblivion/pseuds/IncessantOblivion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Oikawa Tooru is a prince and Iwaizumi Hajime is his knight...</p><p>"I want…I want…” Oikawa opened his eyes and for once Iwaizumi wished he couldn’t read them so well. 'You. I want you,' they said.</p><p>Iwaizumi couldn’t let Oikawa say it for real, he couldn’t. It would destroy him. So he crashed his lips against Oikawa’s, silencing him, consoling him. “I know,” he whispered once they finally parted. </p><p>He didn’t need to say that it didn’t matter what Oikawa wanted – what either of them wanted. They both knew already.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Numbers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa's Song - ["Numbers", Daughter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z-fD3PIRSO8)
> 
> Iwaizumi's Song - ["Tired Tiger", Moving Mountains](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iirAhCHyx5E)

Iwaizumi Hajime stared in abstract wonder at the head of wavy brown hair bobbing up and down between his legs and marvelled at how his life had turned out this way, that the crown prince of Aoba Johsai would be doing such a thing to _him_. Iwaizumi Hajime, nought but a mere knight graciously utilised in the protection of their realm, commoner by birth.

Perhaps, however, it was not such a strange thing if he considered who the crown prince of Aoba Johsai was. Oikawa Tooru, the man he’d known since birth, his best friend for as long as he’d had conscious thought, his confidant, his lover for almost three years.

Iwaizumi moaned deeply as Oikawa sucked his hard length deep into his mouth until it hit the back of his throat. Iwaizumi gripped a fistful of that wavy brown hair so he could control Oikawa’s movements. Oikawa liked to tease and Iwaizumi had never had the patience – nor the fortitude – for it. Besides, he’d always preferred to be in control, and Oikawa had always been a eager to submit to it.

Which was why it was so unusual for Oikawa to be doing this for him. Over the years they’d more or less settled into a pattern of regular behaviour. When Oikawa needed him, Iwaizumi would come to him and satisfy that need. It was never the other way around – Iwaizumi never allowed it to be. Because despite who Oikawa was as a man he was also still a crown prince, so while it was acceptable for Oikawa to request this from Iwaizumi, Iwaizumi would never consider – had never considered – the thought of doing the same.

He knew Oikawa wished their relationship were more reciprocal, knew Oikawa wanted Iwaizumi to depend on him as much as he depended on Iwaizumi – both sexually and emotionally – but he also knew Iwaizumi would not budge on this. Knew the only way he’d have him was if it was in this way; Iwaizumi merely an object at Oikawa’s disposal. It didn’t matter how they felt about each other, that Oikawa loved Iwaizumi as fiercely as Iwaizumi loved him. It never had mattered. This was how it had always been, ever since the start of it.

 _The start, huh?_ Iwaizumi thought with a cynical half-smile and rested his head back, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling as Oikawa continued to work his hard length.

It had all started because of Oikawa’s need and because of Iwaizumi’s inability to deny him anything he needed. A small smile – a more genuine one this time – appeared on Iwaizumi’s lips as he remembered that night that felt so long ago now.

They’d been at war with Karasuno at the time, an old country that had become weak over time. But it had suddenly grown stronger with the ascension of a new king skilled in the art of warfare and his knight who was almost unmatched on the battlefield, despite his young age and small stature. Aoba Johsai and Karasuno had engaged in a few border skirmishes over the years preceding the war – skirmishes Iwaizumi had helped put down himself – but it had escalated into a fully-fledged war the year he and Oikawa turned eighteen.

Oikawa had been sent to the battlefront to prove himself and Iwaizumi had been sent to keep him alive while he did. There was an alternate heir to the throne – Oikawa’s older sister had a son – but the life of a crown prince, heir apparent, would always be protected at all costs regardless.  

Oikawa, Iwaizumi and the rest of Oikawa’s personal guard had been thrown into battle almost immediately upon their arrival, and what a battle it had been. Karasuno had been ruthless, crafty and never gave up, even in the face of their lesser numbers and Aoba Johsai's greater expertise. They had actually managed to force Aoba Johsai to retreat. The only reason they hadn’t been obliterated completely was due to Oikawa and his unparalleled skill as a tactician and strategist.

Oikawa had emerged that battle a hero, but one with a broken spirit after seeing firsthand all the lives and deaths he was responsible for. Iwaizumi, as always, had been tasked with mending it. It wasn’t a task anyone had specifically asked of him, but one he’d always volunteered himself for. He couldn’t imagine it any other way. But that day, the process of mending Oikawa had travelled to an unexpected destination.

* * *

  _Three years ago…_

Iwaizumi let the last of his heavy, burdensome armour drop to the ground, breathing a sigh of relief to be released from its weight and constriction. He felt like he could breathe properly for the first time that day. He was well used to the feeling – this was far from his first battle – but it had been one of the bloodiest. And Oikawa’s first.

 _Shit, there’s no way he’s going to be okay,_ Iwaizumi mused as he walked over to his waiting basin of water. He dunked his head straight into the lukewarm liquid, wishing it was colder, in an attempt to rid himself of some of the blood that seemed to have seeped into his every crevice.

 _So much blood today. Too much._ As bloodied water ran down his face in thick rivulets, Iwaizumi held his hand up and stared at it, wondering absentmindedly how many people’s blood coated it today. He dunked his hands in the basin too, even though it was already stained red with the blood from his hair – he’d lost his helmet at some point during the day, a bad habit of his. Oikawa would need him soon and the last thing he needed to see was yet more blood.

Iwaizumi had only managed to clean his hands and face by the time Matsukawa strode into his tent. Iwaizumi didn’t look up, just stared at the swirling red water in front of him, dreading what was coming next because for once he wasn’t sure what to do to help Oikawa. He despised feeling so helpless.

“Oikawa finally back in his tent?” Iwaizumi queried with some frustration. Despite teetering on the edge of mental and physical exhaustion, Oikawa had insisted on going around to speak to the wounded – which wasn’t a small feat, considering how many of them there were. Iwaizumi admired Oikawa’s dedication to his men and fortitude, but he also resented each moment and each man that kept him from the privacy he so obviously needed to process the events of that day. Or not process. Iwaizumi didn’t know what Oikawa he’d come face to face with – the one who wanted to think, or the one who wanted to forget.

“He’s asking for you,” Matsukawa said in response. Iwaizumi sighed deeply and closed his eyes, attempting to mentally prepare himself for whatever Oikawa he’d find.

“You’re dismissed, Matsukawa. Get some rest,” he ordered.

Matsukawa didn’t leave. “Make sure you get some yourself at some point, Iwaizumi. As much as I know you hate to admit it, you are human like the rest of us.”

Iwaizumi’s mouth twitched up into something like a smile but probably more like a grimace. “Fuck off, Matsukawa.”

Matsukawa saluted lazily. “Gladly, sir,” he replied drolly and did just that.

Iwaizumi inhaled deeply, once...twice, before leaving his tent to walk the short distance to Oikawa’s – the big, ostentatious one right in the middle of the camp. It was a miracle Iwaizumi had even managed to get his own tent, so dead-set had Oikawa been on sharing. It hadn’t mattered how many times or in how many ways Iwaizumi stressed the point that a _knight_ couldn’t share a tent with a _crown prince_ , Oikawa had wanted him close, as always. It was one thing for Iwaizumi to sneak into Oikawa’s bedchamber when he was a boy, when they were young and innocent and it was harmless, but it was an entirely different thing now because now they were none of those things and it was far from harmless.

Iwaizumi had refused to sneak into Oikawa’s bedchambers since he was sixteen, despite all of Oikawa’s incessant begging and cajoling and manipulations, which hadn’t let up even to this day. Oikawa was nothing if not persistent.

It had been soon after his father’s death that Iwaizumi had slipped into Oikawa’s chambers for the last time. Unable to keep the nightmares at bay, he’d stolen into Oikawa’s bed because that had always made the nightmares go away, ever since he’d started having them at fifteen – ever since he’d first starting fighting in battles and wars alongside his father, ever since he’d found out what it meant to take another man’s life.

It had been a hot summer’s night and over the course of it Oikawa had stripped off his shirt and kicked the blankets down to his feet. Iwaizumi had awoken first, as always – a conscious effort on his part as Oikawa was one of those annoying people who enjoyed waking along with the sun and had an overabundance of energy. Over time he’d trained his body to wake before dawn, mostly because he needed to sneak back to his own chambers before too much of the household awoke but also because there had been that one time Oikawa had woken first and used ink to stain crude patterns into Iwaizumi’s face that hadn’t come out for two days. Sure, he’d given Oikawa such a beat down that it was unlikely he’d attempt that stunt again, but Iwaizumi knew all too well that sometimes Oikawa’s sense of mischief overwhelmed his common sense.

He’d awoken that morning while the moon still softly illuminated the large bed and looked at Oikawa’s sleeping body beside him. And kept looking. As he’d tracked his eyes over Oikawa’s naked flesh it had occurred to him that Oikawa’s body had evolved from one of boy to man without Iwaizumi realising. He’d supposed that was what happened when you saw someone almost every day; you didn’t notice those incremental changes.

Oikawa had always been long and lean to Iwaizumi’s broadness and brawn, but his shoulders had still widened and there’d been more bulk than before, more corded muscle curving across his shoulders and chest, down his arms and abdomen. It was a man’s body and Iwaizumi’s gut had tightened at the sight of it. Then Oikawa had sighed in his sleep and turned his head in Iwaizumi’s direction and it was if Iwaizumi saw his face for the first time.

He’d always known in an abstract kind of way that Oikawa was beautiful. Everyone – including Oikawa, _especially_ Oikawa – had always said so and he’d supposed it was standard to acknowledge and catalogue the symmetry of someone’s face. However, like everything else with Oikawa he’d grown accustomed to it over time. His blinding smiles and large, brown eyes and knowing smirks and smooth, unblemished skin hadn’t had any effect on Iwaizumi. But at that moment Oikawa’s beauty suddenly _meant_ something to him. He hadn’t known then what that tightening in his gut meant, what the flush of his skin signified. It had all been so new to him.

Without conscious thought, Iwaizumi had raised his hand and traced the soft and sharp contours of Oikawa’s sleeping face. He’d reached Oikawa’s lips before he’d realised just what he’d been doing, the softness of them taking him by surprise. He’d snatched his hand back as though it’d been burned, wondering what the hell he’d been doing.

He remembered sitting there, mind stunned into silence, racing without producing any conscious thought, watching Oikawa as the sun rose slowly over the horizon. He’d only snapped out of it when Oikawa had started shifting restlessly, his usual unconscious routine before waking. Without really deciding to Iwaizumi had all but run out of Oikawa’s chambers, stopped by his own room only long enough to adorn his riding gear and collect his weapons, and then gone straight to the stables. He’d mounted his stallion Gojira and ridden out to the nearest town to the Royal City.

Iwaizumi had never gone whoring like all the other members of the army and Royal Guard. Oikawa had first bedded a woman – an older woman, a thirty-one-year-old wife of one of the nobles – when he was fourteen. Iwaizumi knew this because Oikawa had come to him the next morning, beaming from ear to ear, and told him so. Iwaizumi remembered calling Oikawa trash and punching him in the face for sleeping with a married woman. Oikawa had not slept with a married woman since, though he’d certainly slept with a plethora of unmarried ones.

Iwaizumi had always figured his aversion to whoring had something to do with his parents, who no one could accuse of being happily married, mostly due his father’s constant philandering. His parents had fallen in lust at a young age and married soon after. When the shine of infatuation had worn out, his mother had found herself as a lady’s maid to a self-centred, selfish queen and with a baby in her belly. She’d been trapped in a life she hadn’t quite wanted and she had resented Iwaizumi’s father for it until the day he died.

While Iwaizumi’s father had gone out on campaign after campaign Iwaizumi had heard of all his father’s ills from his mother. But it was a hard thing to dissuade a young boy from his hero-worship of his father, especially when he didn’t understand what whoring even was or what it meant to have mistresses. But Iwaizumi had found out soon enough after his father had taken him to a brothel for his thirteenth birthday. Iwaizumi had bolted from the premises, rode back to the castle on his horse, and run crying into the arms of his mother, who then had even more ammunition to use in her war of words against her husband.

His father had been a good man, in a way. He’d been kind and calm and steady. He’d never said a bad word about anyone, even his wife who so openly said the worst about him – though for good reason, one could easily argue. Perhaps he’d figured he owed her at least that. He’d also been a decent father in that he’d instilled in Iwaizumi what it meant to serve his king honourably, loyally and without question, though Iwaizumi had never quite managed the ‘without question’ part with Oikawa. Everything else Iwaizumi had learned about what it meant to be an honourable man, not just an honourable knight, came from watching his father and deciding that he’d be the opposite.

The profession of prostitution had never sat right with him either. He knew it was far too embedded in their society to be abolished, but unregulated as it was it allowed for the gross mistreatment of those who worked in the industry. Too often it was the poor and vulnerable that were preyed upon and taken advantage of.

So whoring was not an option for him. Besides, the female body had never appealed to Iwaizumi in the same way it seemed to appeal to other men. Sure, he appreciated its form, but he’d never had any real desire to take a closer look, to touch and taste and discover. So he’d never gone looking for a free sexual encounter either. He’d been propositioned by a few married court ladies, but he’d always turned them down on the basis of their marriage and hadn’t put much thought into just how much he hadn’t ever been tempted by any of the offers. Perhaps he’d thought cursorily now and then that maybe he should try it out to be sure, but it’d never seemed a pressing issue. He’d been far too busy going out on campaigns with his father and taking care of Oikawa when he was at the palace, cleaning up after all the messes Oikawa made as he barrelled through life with little care to everyone else in it.  Also, he’d always prided himself on his ironclad self-control, so leashing his libido – whenever it did arise and usually at the most unusual of times – had never been all that difficult.

That morning it had suddenly become a pressing issue. He’d needed to figure out why he’d reacted to Oikawa’s body when he’d never reacted to anyone else’s. His first step had been to find female companionship without paying for it. It had been simple enough to pick an inn and flirt with the tavern’s barmaid. She had wasted no time in inviting herself to his quarters later that evening. Iwaizumi had drunken himself into a near-stupor in nervous preparation, so when he’d been unable to perform he’d reasoned it was due to his severe inebriation. So the next night he’d gone to a different tavern in a different inn and done much the same, except this time he’d had no more than two pints of ale – an amount that would not affect his constitution at all. Yet the same thing had occurred…or rather, not occurred.

This had forced the realisation that he was not sexually attracted to women in the slightest. His following inability to even picture being intimate with a man other than Oikawa had then convinced him of one unavoidable truth – he was in love with his best friend, the crown prince of Aoba Johsai. In other words, he was fucked.

He’d used the ride home to shore up his defences. He could not act any differently, could not react to Oikawa’s smiles, could not become aroused when Oikawa put his arm around his shoulders as he so often did, could not stare when he thought Oikawa wasn’t looking, could not flush at the sight of his naked torso or body – as Oikawa was not one for modesty – and could not, could _never_ , tell Oikawa how he felt. Because even if Oikawa ever felt the same way, it wouldn’t matter. Not only were they two men, they were of completely different worlds, even though those worlds had collided in an unexpected way. Being raised alongside the crown prince due to convenience and the coincidental positions of his parents serving Oikawa’s did not mean their worlds were the same, did not mean _they_ were the same.

A distance had always existed between them from birth. They both knew it was there, but Oikawa had stubbornly refused to acknowledge it, much less pay heed to it. But then, Oikawa was the crown prince. Iwaizumi didn't have the luxury of such stubbornness or selfishness. His place in the world had been drilled into him ever since he could remember. His relationship with Oikawa was still highly unconventional in that Iwaizumi treated Oikawa just like any other person, but only in safe spaces and it had always been left to Iwaizumi to maintain an awareness of what those safe spaces were and were not. Oikawa acted how he wanted regardless, but how Iwaizumi responded to Oikawa’s cloying affection or childish goading entirely depended on where they were at the time. Because Iwaizumi knew that Oikawa’s father, the king, would only turn a blind eye to their unconventional friendship as long as they maintained proper decorum in public. Try getting Oikawa to abide by such rules, though – a lesson in futility. So it was up to Iwaizumi maintain it for the both of them, much to Oikawa’s eternal frustration.

Maintaining that decorum was why Iwaizumi refused to share a tent with Oikawa on his first campaign, even knowing how much Oikawa needed him there for his continuing peace of mind. It was just too risky. They were surrounded by unfamiliar men, most of whom were not aware of the nature of their relationship, the closeness of their friendship – a word that had always seemed too small to capture whatever he and Oikawa were to each other. The only people who knew of it all were the rest of Oikawa’s personal guard. It was only around them that Oikawa and Iwaizumi could relax. These men had earned Iwaizumi’s trust a long time ago – trust that they wouldn’t gossip and also that they were able to separate Oikawa as a man from Oikawa as a prince. They also had to know in what situations to treat Oikawa as a man or as a prince, and while there had been a few mess-ups along the way they had more or less figured it out after two and a half years.

However it wasn’t just the matter of decorum that caused Iwaizumi to argue fervently against sharing a tent during this campaign. He was still in love with Oikawa, two years on and with no signs of abating - not that he ever expected it to. Iwaizumi hadn’t shared a room with Oikawa since that fateful night because while he possessed an almost inhuman amount of control, he didn’t quite have _that_ much. He used it all up by forcing himself not to react when Oikawa took him along as a guard for his many romantic liaisons with women. He used it all up to keep the pain from his expression as he heard the sounds of Oikawa making love with someone else in the next room, week after week after month after year. It was second nature now, to kill off the part of himself that wanted to shrivel up inside every time.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst of it was that Oikawa was in love with him too.

Back when Iwaizumi had first realised he loved Oikawa, he’d ridden back to the castle expecting Oikawa to rage at him for leaving so unexpectedly, without telling anyone where he’d been going and when he’d be back. But he hadn’t. He’d merely smiled sadly at him and continued on as though Iwaizumi had been there the whole time. He’d acted towards Iwaizumi in _exactly_ the same way as always, but even the best acting in the world would not be able hide or disguise the new awareness that crackled in the air between them. Even if it had, that first sad smile had told Iwaizumi all he needed to know.

Oikawa was in love with him too and had been aware of it for a while. He’d likely also known of Iwaizumi’s reciprocation before Iwaizumi did, a thought which had frustrated Iwaizumi to no end.

He’d always hated it when Oikawa knew something about him before he himself did, simply because it made him feel like the world’s greatest fool. Oikawa was the clever one. Iwaizumi was intelligent in his own way, but it was more in the realms of spatial awareness and common sense. Oikawa’s mind was sharp and he read social situations and adapted himself to them as effortlessly as he breathed. His was the type of intelligence suited to a king, the type of intelligence far flashier and dramatic and overt. Iwaizumi’s only method of maintaining some sense of intellectual equality to Oikawa was his uncanny way of knowing Oikawa better than Oikawa knew himself. It was in the way he could sense his moods and what he was thinking from a slight shift in his tone, a minute difference in his posture or facial expressions, the way he could see through every one of his false smiles.

Oikawa had come to depend on that and seemed to have no issue doing so. Iwaizumi, however, did not appreciate when Oikawa turned the tables on him because it made it that much harder to maintain some form of intellectual equality. It also that much harder for Iwaizumi to force himself to not depend on Oikawa the same way Oikawa did him.

That Oikawa had known they loved each other and hadn’t acted on it in the slightest said it all, anyway. It said that even Oikawa knew it was hopeless for them; said that even Oikawa – who usually paid no heed to social conventions and decorum when it came to Iwaizumi – knew that this was crossing a bold, unmistakeable line. The crown prince could not consort with a man and he certainly could not consort with the captain of his personal guard, a knight, a commoner by birth.

Perhaps they could get away with it if it were only consorting, but Iwaizumi knew and Oikawa knew it’d never be that simple, that it would always be so much more, mean so much more. Too much.

Yet despite this unspoken agreement to never address the way they felt for each other, to never acknowledge the sexual tension that electrified the air around them, to never start something they couldn’t stop, Oikawa still flirted with the line at every possible opportunity. Honestly, Iwaizumi would have been more surprised if he hadn’t. Oikawa had always had an insatiable desire to know where all the limits were, part of his need to know everything about everyone and everything and every situation. It was also in part caused by his insecurity.

As much as Oikawa was Iwaizumi’s weakness, Iwaizumi was Oikawa’s, if not more so. Whereas Iwaizumi consciously prevented himself from depending on Oikawa, Oikawa was far too dependent on Iwaizumi. Whereas Oikawa would usually be completely confident in his assessment of a person’s feelings for him, he always second-guessed himself with Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi knew this was because he never gave any indication to Oikawa that he was in love with him, hadn’t since that day two years ago. So as far as Oikawa knew, Iwaizumi no longer felt the same way. But of course Oikawa refused to accept such an outcome so he constantly pushed Iwaizumi to the limits of his self-control, just to be able to prove to himself that Iwaizumi still loved him. He always had been a pain in the ass.

So Oikawa still asked Iwaizumi to stay with him, taking Iwaizumi’s refusal as confirmation of his feelings, despite Iwaizumi arguing against it on the basis of decorum. The day Iwaizumi would be able to stay the night in the same bed as Oikawa again would be the day he no longer felt the same. Yet if Iwaizumi tried to disabuse Oikawa of this notion by shoring up every iota of his self-control and staying the night anyway, Oikawa would go to every length to ensure Iwaizumi _really_ didn’t love him anymore. And because Iwaizumi knew Oikawa, he knew he would not be able to withstand those lengths.

They were at a stalemate, one Oikawa constantly tried to break by attempting to tempt Iwaizumi with physical proximity and an overabundance of affection. If that didn’t work, he’d turn to women and make sure Iwaizumi was there to witness it in the hopes of garnering a jealous reaction. Nothing had worked so far – Iwaizumi’s self-control was reinforced by the terror and panic he felt at the thought of something happening just because Oikawa wanted reassurance. There would be no coming back from that. Oikawa _knew_ this, yet it was as though he couldn’t help himself from pushing and prodding Iwaizumi anyway and Iwaizumi was tiring of this game, wasn’t sure how long he could hold out. He understood why Oikawa wouldn’t leave him alone, but he also wished he would anyway – wished Oikawa would just let this be.

But that would never be enough for Oikawa, Iwaizumi knew. Oikawa always needed to know that he was the most important person to Iwaizumi and that Iwaizumi was _his_ in some abstract way. In Oikawa’s mind if Iwaizumi was in love with him then no one else would be able to take him away. And Oikawa had too much pride to be able to stand being in love with someone who didn’t love him back.

As Iwaizumi reached Oikawa’s tent he could only hope that Oikawa wasn’t in the mood for games today, that his form of processing or distracting himself from what had occurred on the battlefield did not include riling Iwaizumi up. Because Iwaizumi, still sticky with sweat and the blood of his enemies, was not in the mood for their game. He was too tired – emotionally, physically, and mentally – to shore up his defences against whatever attack Oikawa could think up. He could only hope Oikawa was too exhausted himself to bother thinking of one.

He entered the tent to see Oikawa standing in full armour facing his basin of water, off to one side in the huge space. There were no servants in sight, which hardly surprised Iwaizumi because Oikawa always had liked to be alone when he was feeling vulnerable or unsure of himself. Iwaizumi was the only exception, as always.  

Iwaizumi briefly considering leading with an insult, but the fragile way Oikawa was holding himself made him decide it was not the right time for half-hearted attempts at bad jokes. Then Oikawa turned and Iwaizumi’s heart clenched at the look on his face.

He looked lost.

Iwaizumi would just have to help Oikawa find himself again. That’s what he did best, after all. So Iwaizumi immediately retracted his first thought – nothing brought Oikawa back to himself like being insulted.

“Hey, Trashykawa!” Iwaizumi growled as he stalked over to Oikawa. Then he flicked him on the forehead.

“Ow! Iwa-chan, so mean!” Oikawa whined, but far more subdued than he usually was when Iwaizumi got violent, his response more reflex due to numerous years of repeating the same interchange than a genuine response.

“Your hair’s all flat. You look like an idiot,” Iwaizumi stated before running his fingers through Oikawa’s brown hair – ignoring the matted blood as he attempted to get it closer to its usual meticulous state.

Oikawa sighed quietly. “I suppose even a crown prince can fall victim to the evils of helmet hair.”

No over-confident rejoinder about the ability of his charm and charisma to overcome even the direst of circumstances? This was worse than Iwaizumi thought. The day Oikawa passed up an opportunity to provoke Iwaizumi by blatantly overestimating himself was a day Iwaizumi never thought he’d see – had never wanted to see. Oikawa without his infuriating and terrible personality was like a night sky without stars.

For once Iwaizumi was at a complete loss. Usually if Oikawa was feeling down about something – and there had been many of those times over the years – Iwaizumi was able to bring him back to himself by treating him like shit. In other words, by treating him like he was literally any other human being; treating him worse than Iwaizumi would treat any other human being, even, like there was nothing special about him at all. It made Oikawa feel normal, feel like he didn’t have the weight of a whole country resting on his shoulders; made him remember who he really was, not _what_ he was.

Iwaizumi analytically regarded Oikawa, who was gazing off to the side, eyes unfocused. He was already inside his own head, unaware of his surroundings. _This is not good._ Iwaizumi knew he had to do something to distract him, and fast.

“Well, let’s get that armour off you and clean you up, yeah?” he offered. He figured he could keep Oikawa distracted with his proximity and touch – Oikawa always did get flustered despite himself the rare times Iwaizumi initiated any non-essential physical contact. He’d just add a few brushes of his fingers against Oikawa’s skin as he helped him with his armour. Iwaizumi was confident he could handle that much, and Oikawa’s state of being called for such measures.

Oikawa merely nodded and stood passively and silently, awaiting Iwaizumi’s ministrations. Iwaizumi debated talking, but couldn’t think of anything to say. Oikawa was the talkative one, not him.

Iwaizumi slowly and cautiously divested Oikawa of his larger and heavier outer layer of metal armour, systematically disconnecting the heavy plates and depositing them off to the side. Next, he painstakingly removed the cumbersome chainmail, not speaking but to instruct Oikawa to lift his arms and then bend forward as Iwaizumi was not quite tall enough to slide it off vertically. Iwaizumi only started paying attention to what he was doing when Oikawa was down to the leather padding strapped across his chest, stomach, back, shoulders, forearms, and thighs. It would be simple enough to remove them all perfunctorily, but that wouldn’t give Oikawa any incentive to exit his endless cycle of thoughts and re-enter the physical world.

So when Iwaizumi unbuckled the straps at Oikawa’s forearms, he made sure the tips of his fingers trailed against the soft fabric of the shirt underneath. And when he removed the upper arm pads, he skimmed his knuckles along the inside of Oikawa’s bicep. Oikawa’s head snapped to the side Iwaizumi was working on and his gaze sharpened.

He was back.

To keep him there, Iwaizumi repeated the same motions on the other side, his breath shallowing under the weight of Oikawa’s heated gaze. He could feel Oikawa’s intelligent eyes follow his every move, could see the heavily beating pulse in Oikawa’s neck, could hear the hitch in his breath every time Iwaizumi touched him. Iwaizumi could almost hear the thoughts spinning and circling around in Oikawa’s head, quickly figuring out what Iwaizumi was doing and just as quickly deciding it didn’t matter before dropping into blessed silence. He felt Oikawa’s whole body relax as he allowed himself to simple enjoy Iwaizumi’s touch, to focus on that and nothing else.

Iwaizumi’s mind too was completely blank, only functioning enough to decide just when to touch Oikawa, just where and just how. Just enough but not too much. Never too much. But this was okay. This was the closest he’d allowed himself to Oikawa in months and even longer since he’d initiated any sort of contact that went beyond simple friendly affection.

This was not friendly affection. Friends did not seductively run their fingers and knuckles and palms across the body of their friends when helping them removing armour. Friends did not become short of breath or painfully aroused while doing so, either.

When Oikawa was finally down to just his linen shirt and trousers, Iwaizumi stopped and looked and swallowed a sob that threatened to escape. Oikawa’s shirt was covered in blood, soaked through. Iwaizumi knew none of it was Oikawa's – there hadn't been any breaks in his armour. No, this was the blood of all the men Oikawa had slain that day, so much blood that it had managed to find all the narrow cracks between the metal plates and coat itself over his skin. It painted bold red streaks up his graceful neck and splattered haphazard patterns across the smooth skin of his cheeks.

Iwaizumi knew he probably didn’t look much better. He hadn’t even thought to change his own shirt before coming here, so accustomed was he to being attired in bloodied clothes, so accustomed was he to the feeling of blood forming a flaking layer over his own skin. This was his life, this was what he did, who he was. But it was never what he wanted for Oikawa.

He wanted Oikawa to remain safe and untouched in his high castle tower, not segregated from the world but segregated from _this_. Though perhaps that was an unreasonable goal, seeing as much of the world seemed to be at war. The only reason he’d not suffered an emotional breakdown at the thought of Oikawa on the battlefield was because he had confidence in his own and his men’s ability to protect Oikawa from all potential enemies. Iwaizumi had refused to leave Oikawa’s side on the battlefield, but they had become overrun and Oikawa had had to get his sword christened after all. It had only been Oikawa’s quick thinking and clever strategies that had both saved their lives and won them the battle.

Iwaizumi realised he’d been staring at Oikawa for too long. Oikawa was staring back, a small, sad smile curling his lips.

“I always wondered how you looked, these past three years.”

“What?” Iwaizumi hadn’t been expecting Oikawa to say anything. Verbally acknowledging unnecessary and potentially dangerous things had never been their way. Safer for such things to remain implied but unspoken.

“After battle. When you came back home you looked as you always did. Perhaps a few bandages here and there, especially at first, but you looked the same, like war hadn’t affected you at all. I figured maybe that was just because you’d had time to collect yourself between the battlefield and the castle.” Oikawa paused and Iwaizumi was too surprised to even think of saying something. “But here you are, just after battle, and you’re still exactly how you always are.” He laughed, but the sound was brittle. “Just covered in blood and people’s insides, of course.”

Iwaizumi cleared his throat uncomfortably. “How…how did you expect me to be?”

Oikawa laughed again, self-mocking this time. “I’m not entirely sure now. Perhaps…shaken, upset, unsure of yourself. Things you never usually are.”

Iwaizumi shrugged, knowing what Oikawa was getting at. “I have been all of those things, but I’m not anymore. At least, not enough to be unable to put them aside.”

Oikawa’s eyes watched Iwaizumi intently, communicating things Iwaizumi didn't want to see. “You don’t need to put them aside, not with me.”

Iwaizumi figured that was what he'd been building up to; Oikawa's desire to have more of Iwaizumi than he was willing to give was incessant. But that was one desire Iwaizumi could not fulfil. He couldn’t allow himself to depend on Oikawa that way, no matter how much he may want to, because that would only lead to dependence in other things. Like having his nightmares soothed by Oikawa’s presence as he’d once done, which in turn would lead to more things – dangerous, forbidden things. Things that were brewing in the air around them now.

“What I need to do is clean some of that blood off you,” Iwaizumi replied, not even bothering to be subtle about changing the subject. Oikawa smirked, all bitterness and cynicism, and let the topic go. He knew better than anyone when Iwaizumi would budge and when he would not, knew when he’d reached the line both of them refuse to acknowledge but both knew was there.

Without saying a word Iwaizumi moved to the basin, wet the provided cloth, and turned back to Oikawa to see he’d already removed his bloodied shirt. Iwaizumi was well accustomed to the sight of Oikawa’s naked torso so he barely reacted to the sight of it then. He hadn’t touched it, though. Not in two years.

Iwaizumi inhaled bracingly and approached Oikawa. Without meeting his eyes, he started to methodically wipe the drying blood off Oikawa’s chest and shoulders. He ignored the way they trembled. When he started wiping Oikawa’s neck he noticed Oikawa was swallowing deeply and more frequently than he needed to. When he reached Oikawa’s face he knew what he was going to see and he knew it would break every restraint he’d ever placed on himself, but he was powerless to do anything but continue, because like he’d so bluntly indicated to Oikawa, this wasn’t about him, this wasn’t about his needs.

Iwaizumi’s eyes met Oikawa’s to see they were overflowing with tears that tracked pathways through the blood splatters on his cheeks. Iwaizumi wordlessly used the cloth to wipe them and the blood away, but they didn’t stop.

“I could have saved more,” Oikawa whispered hoarsely, his voice tortured. “I could have prevented -”

“Don’t,” Iwaizumi ordered sharply. If Oikawa started going down that road of thought he’d never get off it, he’d never be able to be to move on from this day, never be able to repeat it over and over again on other days. And he needed to be able to do that because that’s what was going to happen. This was war, after all.

“But…”

Iwaizumi abandoned the cloth and cupped Oikawa’s face firmly in his battle-calloused hands. “ _Don’t_. You don’t need to do this to yourself, Oikawa.” He used his thumb to wipe a new tear-track away. “I won’t let you.”

Oikawa inhaled a shuddering breath. “What would I do without you, Iwa-chan.”

One side of Iwaizumi’s mouth lifted up into a small smile, but his eyes were complete serious when he promised, “You’ll never have to find out.”

Oikawa’s hands, previously lifeless by his sides, moved to gently rest on Iwaizumi’s hips. Iwaizumi’s pulse leaped at the contact, and again when Oikawa closed his eyes and leaned forward to rest his forehead on Iwaizumi’s.

Iwaizumi’s eyes closed reflexively and they stood there, just breathing each other in. Iwaizumi had never been so aware of Oikawa’s location in conjunction to his own before, never been so aware of Oikawa’s slender hands and where they were situated, never been so aware of so small a space as the one that separated their lips. He knew if he opened his eyes he’d be opening a door that could not be closed again. Or at least not closed without much pain, more pain than he thought himself capable of bearing.

So he didn’t open them when he felt the tentative brush of Oikawa’s lips against his own, even as his heart jumped in his chest and fire lit up his body from the inside out. He didn’t open them when Oikawa kissed him again, firmer this time, surer, even though his fingers desperately pressed into the back of Oikawa’s neck. He didn’t open them when Oikawa tightened his hands on Iwaizumi’s hips, digging his fingers into the flesh there, and whispered, “Open your eyes.” He didn’t open his eyes but he didn’t move away either. He felt as though he’d been caught in suspension, unable to move forward, unable to move back. Every particle of his being was screaming at him to open his eyes, to close the gap between them, both physically and metaphorically. But he didn’t open his eyes, weighed down by years of strict conditioning and far too much fear.

Fear because they were at the precipice of something unknown and terrifying in its enormity. Fear because they meant too much to each other to ever come back from taking a step too far, from taking a step over the line and into the forbidden. Fear because Iwaizumi wanted it so damn much. Too damn much. It had always been too much with them.

He needed to move away, needed to leave, needed to preserve the fragile space between them.

But then Oikawa kissed him again, desperate now. Hungry. Full of want and need. Iwaizumi groaned. “Tooru.” He hadn’t known Oikawa’s first name – a name he hadn’t called him since they were kids – was on the cusp of his lips, ready to escape and condemn them both.

Oikawa’s breath caught on a sob and he pressed his forehead harder against Iwaizumi’s, so hard it was almost painful. “Hajime, _please_. I need you.”

And Iwaizumi opened his eyes, because those were the three words that ensured Iwaizumi would do anything, cross any line, and Oikawa knew it. He knew it and as childish as he could be, he would never use those words against Iwaizumi as part of a game, as part of some manipulation he was engaging in. Oikawa would only ever use those words if he really meant them.

So Iwaizumi opened his eyes, looked into Oikawa’s a scant inch away, and saw all the things in them he’d both so desperately wanted to see and never wanted to know. And he’d opened the door now; the floodgates holding back everything he’d suppressed for two years had been released. So when Iwaizumi roughly pulled Oikawa’s lips to his own it was with all the pent-up passion and desperation and hunger and loneliness and anger and hopelessness and obsession and joy and longing and need and love – overwhelming, all-consuming _love_ – that he’d never allowed himself to express before.

It was not enough and all too much all at once. They gripped onto each other as though all the forces of nature were trying to tear them apart. Their arms wrapped around each other like vices, lips opened and tongues seeking the other as their bodies struggled to keep up with the all the overflowing emotions their hearts were attempting to communicate. Now they were finally able to express what they felt it seemed they didn’t know how to manage it, unable to cope with everything they were feeling. So Iwaizumi pulled back, pressing soft kisses against Oikawa’s seeking lips and tenderly brushing his hair back from his face.

If they were going to do this – and it was irrefutable now that they were, gone too far to turn back – Iwaizumi didn’t want it to be so rushed that he barely knew what was going on. He wanted to savour it, every single moment, so when he was back in his own bed, back to his old ways, he could pull out this memory whenever he needed it and replay it over and over, second by second. It needed to last him a lifetime.

So he took his time as he kissed his way down Oikawa’s neck, making sure to catalogue and file away the feel and taste of the skin there. He traced his hands slowly over the contours of Oikawa’s ribs and abdomen, in awe and wonder because he was finally touching Oikawa’s body how he’d longed to. He marvelled at the way Oikawa’s breath hitched as he sucked over the pulse in his neck, the way his heart pounded underneath Iwaizumi’s hand, the way he flinched when Iwaizumi rubbed his hand across the muscles of his back.

“Off,” Oikawa begged in a hoarse whisper and tugged at the base of Iwaizumi’s shirt impatiently. Iwaizumi quickly tore it off over his head and brought Oikawa’s lean, supple body against his own, marvelling at the sensation of skin on skin. Of _Oikawa's_ skin against his. 

Oikawa’s hands roamed restlessly across the expanse of Iwaizumi’s broad back as Iwaizumi gripped his face and kissed Oikawa deeply, dipping is tongue in to taste every corner of Oikawa’s mouth. Oikawa gasped into Iwaizumi’s mouth as their now-hard lengths brushed against each other. Iwaizumi gritted his teeth and pressed his face into Oikawa’s neck, fighting for self-control.

Oikawa cupped Iwaizumi’s face with one hand and brought it up to his own, kissing him lightly before pulling back and smiling at Iwaizumi as though everything in the world was right. If that was meant to calm Iwaizumi down, it completely failed – had the opposite effect, even. Iwaizumi groaned and wrenched Oikawa against him, devouring his lips, urgently rubbing their bodies together.

“Hajime…” Oikawa gasped when their lips finally parted and followed it with a low, pleading moan. “Please…”

Iwaizumi bit at Oikawa’s nape and rubbed the pad of a finger across one of his nipples, making Oikawa hiss with pleasure. “It’s okay, Tooru. I know what you need.”

Iwaizumi kissed Oikawa and started walking backwards towards the bed made up of piles of blanket and furs, guiding them almost subconsciously so his lips did not have to be separated from Oikawa. When his calves hit the bed he sat and Oikawa straddled him, hips aligned with hips. Iwaizumi gripped at Oikawa’s ass and pulled their groins together more firmly, shifting his hips rhythmically to attain the friction his body so badly craved.

Iwaizumi tongued Oikawa’s nipple, eliciting a sound that made Iwaizumi suddenly very aware that as much as he wanted to prolong and savour this experience, if he didn’t move this along he wasn’t going to last much longer. With that in mind he reached for the opening of Oikawa’s pants and struggled to undo them with clumsy, trembling fingers. He hated that his fingers, usually so easily managed, felt thick and unwieldy now when he needed them the most. He swore under his breath in frustration and Oikawa’s hands – those graceful hands with those long, slender fingers Iwaizumi had always admired – covered Iwaizumi’s own.

Oikawa gently brushed Iwaizumi’s hands aside, kissed Iwaizumi’s forehead and said, “It’s okay, Iwa-chan. I’ve got it.”

Iwaizumi screwed his eyes shut and fought against a sudden onset of tears. _God, I love him_ so much _. So much. I can’t…I…_

Iwaizumi wrapped his arms around Oikawa’s waist and buried his face in his neck, just feeling him and breathing him and never wanting to let go. Oikawa encircled Iwaizumi’s shoulders and neck with his arms and rested his cheek against Iwaizumi’s hair. Iwaizumi didn’t know how long they stayed like that for, just holding each other while Iwaizumi struggled to control his emotions, but it was long enough for the touch to shift from comforting to something more, something darker.

Iwaizumi open his mouth against the skin of Oikawa’s neck and Oikawa’s fingers dug into Iwaizumi’s shoulders. Iwaizumi bit down and Oikawa ground his hips into Iwaizumi’s. Their mouths sought each other openly and came together sloppily with tongue and teeth and moans. Iwaizumi picked Oikawa up by his thighs and turned them around, hastily pushing Oikawa’s against the bed. Oikawa reached for him, but Iwaizumi moved down to tug Oikawa’s pants off and quickly rid himself of his own.

He allowed himself a second – just a second – to admire Oikawa’s naked, aroused body before he slid against it with his own, skin against skin. Oikawa opened his legs to accommodate Iwaizumi’s weight and they rutted against each other, kissing and biting and grasping.

Iwaizumi so badly wanted to fill Oikawa up, but he wasn’t entirely sure how. He’d heard enough talk around the barracks to know that the woman had to be wet otherwise it would be painful for her, but Oikawa wasn’t a woman and…

“Wet your finger and put it inside me, Iwa-chan. Stretch me out,” Oikawa gasped, obviously feeling the hesitancy in Iwaizumi’s actions. Iwaizumi wanted to be grateful for the guidance and not question how Oikawa knew such a thing, but he couldn’t stand the idea that Oikawa had done this with someone else, someone who wasn’t him.

As if predicting Iwaizumi’s questions, sensing his jealousy, Oikawa put his palms on either side of Iwaizumi’s face, looked into his eyes and said seriously – more serious than Iwaizumi had ever seen him, “You’re the only one, Hajime.”

Iwaizumi exhaled a shuddering breath and decided that after that, questions could wait. He needed to be inside Oikawa, needed to be connected to him in every way. So he did as Oikawa had directed, hissing out a breath as he pushed past the initial resistance and felt Oikawa contract around him, envelop him.

Oikawa gasped and threw his head back as Iwaizumi moved his finger inside him. “Does it hurt? Should I stop?” Iwaizumi queried worriedly. He hadn’t known what to expect, didn’t know how this was supposed to feel, so he wasn’t sure if Oikawa was enjoying it or not – was supposed to at all.

“Don’t stop,” Oikawa reassured him. “It’s just…ah! Just been a while since…um…since I’ve done this to myself.”

That stopped Iwaizumi in his tracks. He stared down at Oikawa’s face in confusion. “You…do this to yourself?”

Oikawa flushed red and covered his face with his hands. “Yes…”

Well, that answered the question of how he knew what to do. But Iwaizumi still had more. “Why?”

“Not telling,” Oikawa mumbled stubbornly.

Iwaizumi scowled and wiggled his finger inside Oikawa in displeasure. He felt a spongy spot and pressed against it out of curiosity. He must have done something right – or wrong, it was hard to tell – because Oikawa yelped and twitched violently.

“Oikawa?” Iwaizumi kind of wanted to do it again, but only if he knew it didn’t cause Oikawa any pain.

Oikawa exhaled a few short, sharp breaths before answering, “That’s why.”

“Huh?” Iwaizumi grunted and moved Oikawa’s hands from his face.

Oikawa’s eyes met Iwaizumi’s briefly before he looked away – colour was high on his cheeks. “I do it because of that, Iwaizumi. Because it feels good. Because I was curious. Because I’d always hoped it’d be…always wanted it to be…” His eyes met Iwaizumi’s again. _You,_ they said. _I’d always hoped it’d be you. Always wanted it to be you._

Iwaizumi kissed Oikawa hard: _It is now._ For now, but Iwaizumi wouldn’t think about that yet.

“Can I put another one in?” Iwaizumi asked, mostly to distract himself from thoughts he didn’t want to acknowledge.

Oikawa nodded. “Just…ah…make it wetter. And touch me.”

Iwaizumi nodded solemnly and approached the task as though he were preparing to go into battle – full concentration, paying attention to every little thing, carrying out each task meticulously, methodically.

He sat back on his knees and watched with a strange kind of detachment as he pushed another finger inside Oikawa’s wet and loosening entrance, as they disappeared inside him. He moved them in and out, brushing that spot he now knew Oikawa really liked, as his other hand worked Oikawa’s erection, slick with moisture leaking out of it.

It was after a third finger was inside that he heard Oikawa’s soft laughter.

“What?” he questioned distractedly as he moved his fingers in and out and around.

Oikawa’s thumb lightly brushed the space between Iwaizumi’s eyebrows. “So serious, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi blinked at Oikawa in confusion, looked back down at his fingers that had disappeared inside Oikawa, then back up at Oikawa again. “Huh?” Was he not supposed to be serious about this? He just wanted to make sure he didn’t hurt Oikawa.

Oikawa smiled at him and it was a smile so full of tenderness and fondness that it actually took Iwaizumi’s breath away. “You were scowling.”

Iwaizumi blinked in surprise. “I was?” He flushed; he was always scowling when he didn’t mean to. People always found him intimidating because of it. Now seemed like the worst time of all to be intimidating. Oikawa must have found it really unappealing. “Sorry.”

Oikawa smiled again, that same smile that took Iwaizumi’s breath away, and pulled Iwaizumi towards him. “Don’t be. I think your scowl is cute.”

Iwaizumi, his face now hovering over Oikawa’s, look down at him in something like horror. “ _Cute_?”

Oikawa laughed. Iwaizumi didn’t think he’d ever seen him so happy, so carefree. “Yes. You’re so cute, Iwa-chan. It makes me want to kiss you.”

Now _that_ was something Iwaizumi could get behind. “Then kiss me,” he whispered against Oikawa’s lips, shifting the mood from playful to intense in the space of a few seconds.

But Oikawa didn’t kiss him. He bit down on Iwaizumi’s bottom lip and drew it out between his teeth.

“Fuck…” Iwaizumi groaned and hungrily took Oikawa’s mouth with his. He started moving his fingers inside Oikawa again, brushing against that spot over and over, making Oikawa moan and cry out.

“ _Hajime_ ,” Oikawa cried out, part pleading, part scolding, after the fourth time Iwaizumi brushed against that spot. “I’m ready.”

Iwaizumi pressed a quick kiss against his lips: _I know_.

Iwaizumi slicked his own pre-ejaculate over his cock and positioned it at Oikawa’s entrance, trying not to think too hard about what he was about to do, afraid the realisation would make him falter. He was about to be inside Oikawa. Oikawa Tooru, his first love. His only love. His soulmate. He trembled.

_Don’t think about it. Just get it done._

Oikawa placed his palm against Iwaizumi’s cheek: _It’s okay._

Iwaizumi closed his eyes and turned his face into Oikawa’s palm. It was now.

He pushed inside, slowly, steadily, aching with every inch. It was only when he was fully seated inside that he dared open his eyes, dared look at Oikawa.

Oikawa had his eyes closed, head thrown back and mouth parted. Iwaizumi took advantage of Oikawa’s inattention, allowed himself to stare hungrily at Oikawa’s face contorted with pleasure, painted a picture of it in his mind so he would never forget it.

Too soon Oikawa opened his eyes, saw Iwaizumi gazing down at him, and smiled softly. “Hey.”

One side of Iwaizumi’s mouth tipped up into a fond smile. “Hey.”

“You’re inside me,” Oikawa observed calmly.

Iwaizumi’s smile widened at the absurdity of this conversation. Typical Oikawa. God, he loved him. “I am.”

“And you’re smiling,” Oikawa accused.

“I am.” Iwaizumi was outright grinning now.

“I wonder if that has anything to do with me,” Oikawa mused with false ignorance.

Iwaizumi laughed and Oikawa’s face blanked out in shock. He’d obviously been expecting Iwaizumi to insult him, but Iwaizumi was feeling pretty generous.

“What can I say?” He smiled down at Oikawa, a smiled imbued with everything he felt for this infuriating, incorrigible man. “You make me happy.”

Oikawa closed his eyes, turned his head to the side and groaned. “You can’t say those things to me and expect me to…”

_Let you go._

Iwaizumi didn’t need to see Oikawa’s eyes to understand that one. He felt exactly the same. So he tenderly turned Oikawa’s face back to his, kissed him, and started to move inside him.

_I know._

* * *

  _Present_

They’d made love to each other slowly that night and even though it’d been almost three years Iwaizumi remembered every touch, every sigh, every gasp, every word that went unspoken but was communicated by his body moving inside Oikawa and Oikawa’s bottomless brown eyes.

Their eyes had never left each other; their gaze had never wavered. All their awkwardness and hesitation had melted away as they focused solely on the connection between them, on that meeting of their hearts and bodies.

They’d climaxed together – clichéd but unable to be any other way – gasping each other’s names, kissing each other’s lips. Then they’d lay there in each other’s arms, not speaking, neither of them knowing what to say, not having words to capture nor describe what had just occurred between them.

Oikawa had eventually drifted off to sleep, too exhausted by all the events of that day to remain awake any longer. Iwaizumi had watched him breathe, fighting off his own exhaustion, and cried for the first time in his adult life. Cried for the men they’d lost that day, cried for the loss of Oikawa’s innocence by taking his first human life, cried for himself, cried for them. Because they were hopeless – he and Oikawa. Completely and utterly. Unable to be together yet unable to stay away. But Iwaizumi had tried – oh, how he’d tried. And he had decided, as he’d finally left Oikawa’s tent to seek out his own, to continue trying to maintain that distance.

Iwaizumi had felt so old back then, so matured, so sure of himself, but it had been so laughably arrogant of him to think he could prevent such an occurrence through the strength of his will alone. He’d only been eighteen, after all, and Oikawa was his first love – first everything.

He’d also been unbearably naïve to think that night would be the only night, that time the only time. Now, almost three years on, he’d savoured Oikawa’s body too many nights, woken up to him too many times, unable to deny himself the pleasure of Oikawa being the first thing he saw the next day. Not that he would _ever_ let Oikawa know that, of course.

He hadn’t known the wet heat of Oikawa’s mouth that often, though. Hadn’t known it for years, in fact. They’d completely explored each other’s bodies during that first year together, so Iwaizumi had allowed Oikawa to perform this act a few times, choosing to think of it as indulging Oikawa’s curiosity instead of accepting it as a service for his own benefit. Eventually, however, Iwaizumi had stretched his definition of curiosity far enough and ensured from then on that Oikawa would be the only one of the receiving end of such a selfless act.

But today Oikawa had been oddly insistent. He’d sent a servant to Iwaizumi in the barracks, requesting his presence. Iwaizumi hadn’t been expecting it – Oikawa knew to leave him be after he’d been training and drinking with his men unless it was a legitimate emergency, and Iwaizumi knew there was only one thing Oikawa could want at this time of night. But he’d come, if for no other reason than to scold Oikawa for still being awake so late at night when he had to resume treaty negotiations with Karasuno early the next morning so they could finally end this damned three-year war.

When he’d arrived at Oikawa’s bedchambers, mouth poised open ready to let loose, Oikawa had desperately kissed him into silence, stripped them both faster than Iwaizumi had ever seen him move in his entire life, and had Iwaizumi laid back on the bed and his cock in his mouth before Iwaizumi could really process what was happening.

Iwaizumi had immediately recognised it would be completely pointless to attempt to disabuse Oikawa of his chosen course of action – there was no reasoning with him when he was like this. Iwaizumi had also immediately recognised that something must be seriously wrong for Oikawa to be so single-mindedly insistent about giving Iwaizumi pleasure and he knew wouldn’t find out what it was until Oikawa had indulged in this compulsion.

Which all meant that Oikawa was currently doing everything in his power to make Iwaizumi climax and Iwaizumi, in turn, was doing everything in his power not to while still allowing Oikawa to do what he pleased. But he was fast approaching his limit.

Iwaizumi pulled Oikawa’s head away from him with the hand already gripping hair. “Enough,” he stated, trying to keep his tone even and authoritative. If he gave an inch, Oikawa would take a mile.

Oikawa frowned up at him. “But I’m not done.”

Iwaizumi frowned back. “I am.”

Oikawa pouted. “But I want to make you come, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi scowled, pulled Oikawa up from his position between Iwaizumi’s legs and flipped them over so Oikawa was on his stomach on the soft bed. He gripped a fistful of Oikawa’s hair once more, exposed his neck, put his lips to Oikawa’s ear and said in a low voice, “I decide when I want to come and I’ve decided I want to come when I’m in here.” He ground his erection against Oikawa’s ass so Oikawa was perfectly clear just what _here_ he was referring to.

Iwaizumi felt Oikawa’s whole body shudder beneath him and he smiled in triumph as Oikawa moaned an ‘okay’. He would never tire of the affect he had on Oikawa, this ability to bend him completely to his will. It wasn’t a power anyone else had and it was a power no one other than Iwaizumi could have, because Iwaizumi was the one person who would never take advantage of it, only use it in the right circumstances.

Like now.

He reached down to Oikawa’s entrance and was shocked to find it was already slippery and loose. “You prepared yourself?” he asked incredulously. The question of _when_ was silently implied.

Oikawa moaned into the pillow and gripped the bed sheets in his fists as Iwaizumi pushed a finger inside him. He mumbled an answer into the pillow.

“I didn’t quite catch that,” Iwaizumi said as he lightly brushed his finger over the bundle of nerves that always made Oikawa jolt in pleasure.

Oikawa quickly turned his head to the side and clarified, “When I had you in my mouth.”

“ _Jesus_ ,” Iwaizumi groaned into Oikawa’s neck and pushed a second and third finger inside him. Watching Oikawa finger himself drove him crazy, so he must have been really far gone – head stuck in the past like a fool – to have missed _that_.

“It’s a sin to take the Lord’s name in vain, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa scolded teasingly, his voice light as he moved on Iwaizumi’s fingers.

Iwaizumi huffed out a laugh despite himself. “Says the man who just had my dick in his mouth and is currently riding my fingers.”

“Says the man who’d prefer to be riding something else,” Oikawa challenged.

Far be it from Iwaizumi to reject such a challenge. “Allow me to help you with that,” Iwaizumi replied and spread Oikawa apart.

“No, wait!” Oikawa cried out suddenly and Iwaizumi froze. He waited for Oikawa to indicate what he wanted Iwaizumi to do, but silence prevailed.

“…Oikawa?”

“I…I want to be on my back.” Oikawa’s voice was small and uncertain – completely out of character.

Iwaizumi wordlessly flipped Oikawa over, searching Oikawa’s face for the answer to what was wrong with him. Oikawa, however, only looked up at him with a soft smile – one of his rare genuine ones. Iwaizumi scowled down at him and didn’t move.

After a few moments Oikawa shifted restlessly beneath him. “I’m ready, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi scowled some more and rubbed his nose against Oikawa's, an action that said _I know something’s wrong and you’re going to tell me what it is_.

Oikawa chuckled and kissed away Iwaizumi’s frown. Iwaizumi received the message loud and clear: _I know, Iwa-chan. I’ll tell you later, I promise._

Iwaizumi’s scowl deepened: _You’d better._

Oikawa smiled serenely in response and pressed his thumb to the deep creases between Iwaizumi’s brows. Iwaizumi let out a long-suffering sigh. Oikawa had been doing that to him ever since they were kids, usually accompanied by something like “You’re scaring the wildlife away, Iwa-chan” or “If you keep doing that you’ll get premature wrinkles, Iwa-chan” or “I know you’re not beautiful like me, Iwa-chan, but that doesn’t mean you should give up on your looks completely”. And then there was that one time _... “I think your scowl is cute.”_ But Iwaizumi wasn’t going to think about that night anymore – he was feeling unbalanced enough by Oikawa’s actions as it was.

This time the familiar gesture was accompanied with an impatient rub of erection against erection.

Iwaizumi’s hips responded reflexively. _Message fucking received._ He leaned back to rest on his knees, tilted Oikawa’s hips up and spread him apart before slowly breaching his entrance. Iwaizumi let out the breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding when he was finally fully sheathed. It didn’t matter how many times he did this, it always felt as good as it had the first time.

 _Stop thinking about that, already!_ he scolded himself.

Oikawa moaned and shifted, signalling for Iwaizumi to move. Iwaizumi dug his fingers into Oikawa’s hips as he slowly thrust in and out of his tight heat. He’d threw his head back and closed his eyes as he allowed himself to savour the feel of it before it was time to fully focus on giving Oikawa as much pleasure as he was able. He’d always allowed himself these precious moments to just _feel_ before he turned his attention away from himself – he felt like they’d kept him sane all these years, made everything else he had to deal with as a result of this relationship easier to bear.

He opened his eyes only to find Oikawa looking intently up at him. Oikawa started slightly when he saw that Iwaizumi was looking back.

Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow at him: _What are you doing?_

Oikawa flushed and covered his face with his arm. Iwaizumi scowled, not only because it was _very_ unlike Oikawa to cover his face – his self-admitted favourite part of himself – but also because Iwaizumi wanted to look at Oikawa’s face while he was moving inside him. It was his favourite part of Oikawa too, after all – something he would _never_ admit to aloud.

Iwaizumi shifted forward on his knees and leaned forward over Oikawa so he could promptly remove the offending arm. But as soon as he did Oikawa abruptly wrapped his arms around Iwaizumi and pulled him down so they were skin-against-skin.

Iwaizumi braced his forearms on either side of Oikawa’s head for balance and looked at him in surprise. “What…”

Oikawa gazed up at Iwaizumi with some indiscernible emotion – though if Iwaizumi were to take a guess, he’d go with panic. But that didn’t make any sense.

“Like this. I want to do it like this,” Oikawa whispered as he pulled Iwaizumi’s face down to kiss him and started slowly shifting his body up and down Iwaizumi’s hard length.

Iwaizumi was completely confused and extremely concerned by this point, but he didn’t know what to do other than what Oikawa wanted him to. So he hugged Oikawa to him, cheek pressed against cheek, and made love to him slowly, even though they hadn’t done it like this since that first night. Iwaizumi had never allowed himself to, knowing that making love was just as dangerous as admitting to it.

When Oikawa had summoned Iwaizumi to his tent the night after they'd first made love, Iwaizumi had known why immediately and just like he had on that horse ride back to the castle following his realisation of his feelings, he’d used the walk over to shore up his defences. He and Oikawa had crossed a line and Iwaizumi had not been able to change that – wouldn’t, even if he could have – but he had been able to control what occurred from there on out.

He’d known he couldn’t have a complete partnership of body and soul with Oikawa, not long term. Everything in their lives prevented it, so if Iwaizumi gave himself over to Oikawa fully again and again, he knew he’d never be able to let go. And one day he’d have to let go because Oikawa was a crown prince, heir to the throne. He’d have to marry one day, likely a day not so far away, and produce an heir and there was absolutely nothing Iwaizumi could do to prevent that. He’d known that if he engaged in a partnership of body and soul with Oikawa – a continuation of the previous night – neither of them would be able to let go when the time came. Iwaizumi had known he couldn’t make Oikawa’s choice for him, but he could make a choice for himself, one that would protect both himself and, more importantly, Oikawa in the long term. So he’d chosen to give his body, as Oikawa demanded, but not his soul.

So Iwaizumi had fucked Oikawa that night, and all the nights since. He’d kept it purely physically, consciously disengaging his heart from their actions. That wasn’t to say he didn’t show any affection during these times, but he kept the motive physical, not emotional.

He knew Oikawa wasn’t entirely satisfied with how things were, knew Iwaizumi was withholding his heart from him, but being able to have Iwaizumi’s body had seemed to be enough for him. Until now, anyway.

Iwaizumi didn’t know what was going on with Oikawa, but he couldn’t help but respond in the only way he knew how – by giving Oikawa what he needed.

He didn’t know how long they made love like that, wrapped in each other’s arms so tightly it was a wonder they could still breathe. Iwaizumi felt as though he could stay that way with Oikawa forever, just pause that moment in time and never let it resume. It was just him and Oikawa and their bodies saying all the things they never dared say out loud, just like that first time, but also different because this wasn’t an inexperienced, exhausted fumble in the dark as they desperately tried to manage their overwhelming emotions. Their bodies knew each other now, fit together, spoke to each other softly and patiently and with the familiarity of experience.

Iwaizumi didn’t think anything could possibly make him want to stop, to lose those feelings, until he felt wetness on his cheek that wasn’t his own. He lifted his head and looked at Oikawa. His eyes were scrunched shut, tears running down his face.

Alarmed, Iwaizumi cupped Oikawa’s face in his hands and used his thumbs to wipe away the tears, but they kept falling. “Oikawa! What’s wrong?”

A sob escaped Oikawa’s throat, but he kept his eyes shut and stubbornly shook his head from side to side.

Iwaizumi remembered rather belatedly what they were in the middle of and fear shot through his body. “Am I hurting you? Did I hurt you?” he asked urgently as he moved to withdraw from Oikawa’s body.

“No!” Oikawa cried out suddenly and tightened his legs around Iwaizumi, firmly pulling him back inside. Iwaizumi looked down at Oikawa in shock and confusion; Oikawa’s eyes were open but bright with unshed tears.

“Please stay. Please don’t leave,” he begged in a whisper, voice tortured.

Iwaizumi tenderly stroked Oikawa’s face with his hands, trying to erase all traces of tears. He’d never been able to handle Oikawa’s tears. “I won’t. I promise. Just tell me what’s going on,” he requested gently.

Oikawa scrunched his eyes up again as a silent sob heaved his chest and another set of tears ran down his face.  

“Tooru…” Iwaizumi breathed, deeply concerned now as he desperately tried to clear the tears away again.

Oikawa brought his hands up to his face, brushed Iwaizumi’s hands aside and pressed his palms against his eyes. “Damn it…I promised myself I wouldn’t do this…”

“Do what?” Iwaizumi inquired gently, running his fingers through Oikawa’s hair.

“I told myself I’d do this tomorrow, talk tomorrow, break down tomorrow,” Oikawa rambled, more to himself than Iwaizumi. “I just want tonight, that’s all, just one more night to pretend this isn’t happening.”

Icy cold dread seeped its way into Iwaizumi’s chest and filled up the pit in his stomach. “Oikawa,” his voice was low and urgent now. “What’s happening?” A demand this time. He needed to know _now_.

Oikawa inhaled a shaky breath, took his hands away from his eyes, and met Iwaizumi’s unflinchingly. “I’m engaged to be married,” he said tonelessly, lifelessly. Iwaizumi forgot how to inhale. “The engagement will be announced at my birthday celebrations next week. The wedding will happen in a month.”

 _Breathe. Just breathe, Iwaizumi._ “I…I don’t…” _I don’t understand. How could this happen? I was meant to have more warning, more time. I need more time._

Oikawa looked off to the side, breaking eye contact, giving Iwaizumi a much-needed respite to ensure _he_ didn’t have a breakdown too. _Later. Do that later._

“It’s to the niece of Karasuno's current king, Princess Shimizu Kiyoko. It’s a non-negotiable part of our peace treaty. I’ve been trying for weeks to persuade them otherwise, but Ambassador Tsukishima insisted it was by orders of King Kageyama.” Oikawa relayed all this information tonelessly, as though describing the weather.

Iwaizumi used the time to collect himself, so when Oikawa met his eyes again he was confident they weren’t giving away the panic currently constricting his chest.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Iwa-chan. It’s just…I just…” Tears welled up in Oikawa’s eyes as his voice failed him.

Iwaizumi used his knuckles to gently brush his tears away once more, desperately hoping Oikawa didn’t notice how his hands trembled. He needed to be strong for him now. “You just didn’t think I needed to know unless it was made official. I know. It’s okay.”

Apparently, those were exactly the wrong words to say because Oikawa promptly abandoned his failing attempt at calm and starting crying for real this time, sobbing and hitting his fists against Iwaizumi’s chest.

“H-how can you say it’s okay? How is this _okay_?” he cried.

Iwaizumi captured Oikawa’s fists in his hands and held them down beside his head. “I know. I’m sorry. I know.” God, how he ever knew. He couldn’t fathom a future in which anything would be okay.

_Please, God, don’t let me lose him. Don’t take him away from me like this!_

Oikawa drew in deep breaths, attempting to calm down. “I don’t want to do this, Iwa-chan! I don’t!” Oikawa’s eyes begged Iwazumi to understand, to believe him, as though Iwaizumi didn’t already know.

Perhaps Oikawa just needed to hear it, so Iwaizumi said it again, “I know.”

Oikawa closed his eyes again and inhaled shaky breath after shaky breath. “I don’t…I don’t want _her_. I want…I want…” he opened his eyes and for once Iwaizumi wished he couldn’t read them so well. _You. I want you._

Iwaizumi couldn’t let Oikawa say it for real, he _couldn’t_. It would destroy him. So he crashed his lips against Oikawa’s, silencing him, consoling him. “I know,” he whispered once they finally parted.

He didn’t need to say that it didn’t matter what Oikawa wanted – what either of them wanted. They both knew already.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay SO. This fic. I saw a picture of Iwaizumi sort-of in knight's armour on Tumblr (I'll try to find the link again and post it on here) and the idea for this fic was born in all of 2.5 seconds. I know exactly where I want this story to go, exactly how it ends and how it gets there, but I feel I must give all potential readers fair warning.
> 
> I'm not known for finishing fics (I'm not known at all, really, but if I was known it wouldn't be for finishing my fics). This is going to be a monster of a fic. I'm talking multiple LONG chapters like this one. Perhaps not quite as long as this one, seeing as this one is half back-story, but still. Long. It's not going to be an easy ride either (note all the 'Angst' tags up top). So, feel free to jump off this depressing ride now if you so choose! I won't hold it against you, promise. Technically one could consider this a oneshot if one so chose (albeit a VERY depressing oneshot, but whatever). 
> 
> However, if you choose to stick with me on this it's more likely I'll keep updating! I'm a full-time university student so whatever writing I do will have to fit around my schedule. I am feeling REALLY into this story at the moment and IwaOi is my Ultimate OTP, so it's looking good for this fic right now. My levels of Haikyuu!! obsession know no bounds. I fear it's an incurably sickness at this point. Don't really care. So for those who do continue with me, a few words.
> 
> This is a Medieval/Fantasy AU. I'm pretty shit at intricate plots and world-building so don't expect much of either of those things. World-building will be loose, I'll only describe enough to make sure everything makes sense. The plot is entirely based around Iwaizumi and Oikawa's relationship, not around wars and battles and such. Don't care. I HAVE tried to limit my use of modern-day slang, but I'd just get to points where trying to think of correct terminology just fucked up my flow so I just wrote how I usually would. Sorry (sort of - it's not like I'm a professional writer or anything). This story is all about the FEELs. Just feels, all over the place. Everywhere. So if you like feels, you're in the right place!
> 
> That's all for now. Hope to see you next time!


	2. Regardless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And so Iwaizumi devoured Oikawa as they stood in the middle of a frequently traversed corridor, because of all those somethings. Or perhaps regardless of them. And Oikawa let himself be devoured, as he always did. He opened himself and took whatever Iwaizumi saw fit to give."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa's Song - ["Regardless", Jarryd James](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NaMufZNa2lQ)
> 
> Iwaizumi's Song - ["The Last Something That Meant Anything", Mayday Parade](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1vaB3VXNJmA)
> 
> ...

Iwaizumi was awoken by a draft of cool air and the slide of a warm body against his own. He was not surprised his usually hyperaware senses did not alert him to the extra presence in his bedchamber sooner. His subconscious was completely attuned to the sound of Oikawa’s footsteps, the way his body moved through the air, the timbre of his breath, by this point. So he, still in that suspension between awake and asleep, immediately turned over and hugged Oikawa’s lithe body to his chest, curling around him protectively.

“You’ve been avoiding me, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whispered accusingly into the heavy darkness, his voice muffled by the skin of Iwaizumi’s chest.

Iwaizumi swallowed deeply, guiltily. “I know,” he said as he ran his nose through Oikawa’s silky hair.

“For five days,” Oikawa continued, his flat tone failing to disguise his hurt. Iwaizumi felt it in the way Oikawa squeezed his waist, in the way he pressed his forehead against him, in the way he trembled.

Iwaizumi inhaled and exhaled deeply. Five days was a long time to only talk to Oikawa when it involved his duties, to ignore his every nightly summon, to decline his every overture to talk about anything that wasn’t expressly to do with Oikawa’s his position as Oikawa's knight and the captain of his Personal Guard. He’d known he was hurting Oikawa by doing so, that Oikawa hadn’t understood why he was being punished for something he couldn’t help…but that wasn’t it. That wasn’t why Iwaizumi had avoided him.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

He could have told Oikawa then how the night Oikawa had told him of his impending marriage Iwaizumi had entered a state of shock that had allowed him to get through the night, to finish making love to Oikawa, to sleep with him, by his side, holding him. He could have told Oikawa how that state had only lasted until the next morning when he'd emerged from Oikawa’s bedchamber shaking violently. He could have told Oikawa how he’d only managed to get as far as barracks’ common area before he’d collapsed against the wall. He could have told Oikawa how Matsukawa and Hanamaki had found him there, grasping at his chest because it felt like a gaping wound had caved it in. He could have told Oikawa that he’d avoided him because he’d been afraid the same thing would happen if he allowed himself to think of the engagement for a second, that Oikawa was too poignant a reminder of it. But he didn’t, because it had been selfish of Iwaizumi to avoid him. Because he was ashamed he’d been so weak. Because those words were a burden Oikawa didn’t need to bear.

“You don’t hate me?” Oikawa asked quietly, his voice small and defeated. Iwaizumi closed his eyes against the tears threatening to form. He hated that he’d made Oikawa this way, caused him to doubt his loyalty.

So he kissed Oikawa’s forehead and said, firmly, “Idiot. I could never hate you. I was being stupid. But I’m okay now, I promise.”

“You’re okay?”

_No. Not at all. But I will be, because you need me to be. I will be strong for you. To make this easier for you._

But Iwaizumi didn’t say all of that, because Oikawa didn’t need to hear that either. Instead, he simply said, “Yeah. I’m okay.”

* * *

Oikawa trailed his fingers down the bristly skin of Iwaizumi’s cheek and brushed his knuckles along the hard line of his jaw, as he did every night Iwaizumi slept beside him. He knew Iwaizumi woke before dawn so he could do the same to Oikawa, could trace the lines of his face. So Oikawa had figured out long ago that he’d just have to wake up even earlier to do the same before drifting back off to sleep, Iwaizumi none the wiser. He’d always hated it when Oikawa stared at him, even though his furious blushes and endearing shyness always made Oikawa want to do it more. At least this way Oikawa could stare and touch to his heart’s content, bask in the knowledge that Iwaizumi was still with him, still his. That Oikawa was the only one who was allowed to do this.

Iwaizumi looked softer when he slept, almost like a child. But his sun-darkened skin, roughened by years exposed to all the elements, and the small scar that marred his left temple always dispelled the image. Oikawa had always been fascinated by the contrast. And not just the physical contrast.

Iwaizumi was a contradiction. Such a hard man on the surface, forever scowling and grumbling, stubborn as a mule, yet anyone who knew anything about him at all would always say what a good man he was, how kind, how thoughtful, how selfless, how infinitely patient. Slow to anger – well, except when it came to Oikawa – and quick to forgive. A complete pushover if you pulled at the right heartstrings but unshakeable in his morality and pride.

And he was the complete opposite of Oikawa, who looked as though he was the embodiment of all that was good in the world, yet whose inner depths belied a propensity towards selfishness, pettiness and more than a hint of maliciousness, particularly if someone crossed him or those he loved. And yet Iwaizumi loved him anyway, loved him not only despite Oikawa’s flaws but because of them.

 _No one could ever love me like he does. He truly is a wonder of a human being_ , Oikawa thought as he rubbed his thumb along the crease of Iwaizumi’s lips and smoothed across the now-invisible lines between Iwaizumi’s brows. _And so beautiful._

Everyone had always called Oikawa the beautiful one and Oikawa had always agreed, but his beauty was superficial and empty. His was the beauty anyone with the right parents could have, the beauty that better belonged on something cold and un-moving, like a statue. Iwaizumi’s beauty went beyond that; it was deeper, warmer, more dynamic. It was in the way his nose was a little too broad, in the way his eyes were a little too small, in the way his lips were a little too fine, in the way his hair refused to flatten even after a whole day of being squashed under a helmet. Iwaizumi’s beauty was in his imperfections, in those things that made him authentically _him_. Oikawa was forever grateful he was the only one who could take advantage of it, because far too many people noticed it.

Far too many people’s eyes lingered on Iwaizumi’s sure movements, stood to attention when he spoke with his deep rumble of a voice, flushed the rare times he smiled. Oikawa resented every smile Iwaizumi gave to someone who wasn’t him, because seeing Iwaizumi smile was like witnessing a bright morning sunrise after a dark, stormy night. Beautiful in the contrast and its sheer rarity. It transformed him from merely attractive to truly stunning.

Oikawa had made a habit of scoffing at all the people who tripped over their words in the face of that smile, as though he himself wasn’t just as susceptible to it. Iwaizumi, dense as always about his effect on people, didn’t notice it at all, which made him all the more alluring to those around him. Even if they didn’t recognise it for what it was, too many people wanted to bask in the light that was Iwaizumi Hajime, gravitated towards him, wanted him for themselves.

 _But he’s mine_ , Oikawa thought as his hand fisted in the sheets between their bodies. Sometimes the extent of his feelings for Iwaizumi frightened him, so aware was he of the lengths he would go to protect this man from harm. _And yet it’s me who causes him the most of it._

Oikawa knew Iwaizumi wasn’t okay. He knew he’d try to be, but that he’d fail. At least at first. And Oikawa was terrified of the day Iwaizumi would be okay with Oikawa not being wholly his anymore. Because if the situations were reversed, Oikawa would never be okay with it. Never.

That was another area he and Iwaizumi differed. Iwaizumi’s love was pure and selfless. He wouldn’t try to be okay with Oikawa’s marriage because he wanted to be for himself, but because he thought it’d make things easier on Oikawa.

Oikawa’s love, conversely, was selfish and twisted. He would never be okay with Iwaizumi not being wholly his because Iwaizumi _was_ his, always would be. Had to be. Not because Oikawa saw him as a possession, but because Oikawa had always been the number one person in Iwaizumi’s life. Oikawa wanted to possess every area of Iwaizumi’s life – from his duties to his bed – so that position was never threatened. He didn’t know how to exist any other way. Second best was not enough, not at all acceptable to him.

So he could only be grateful that he was the prince in this equation, that he was the one who had the power to push Iwaizumi until his defences crumbled. They never would have gotten anywhere if the roles were reversed, if Oikawa hadn’t been able to order Iwaizumi to his tent that first night, hadn’t been able to order Iwaizumi to his bed ever since, knowing Iwaizumi wanted to come but wouldn’t let himself without being specifically instructed.

He could only be grateful that, as distasteful as the thought of it was, he was the one getting married. Because as much as he didn’t want to do it, he would. He could. He could shower false affection on his bride, take her to bed and produce the required heir without thinking too much about it. He’d do his duty and still devote himself to Iwaizumi in every other way. He could split himself in two, divide his priorities, and Iwaizumi would accept it for what it was, as he always had. But Iwaizumi would not have been able to do what Oikawa could, and Oikawa would not have been able to watch him do it, would never be content with not being Iwaizumi’s sole and highest priority.

And if that made him a terrible person, so be it. He tried to balance it out by being an attentive crown prince, by caring for his subjects’ wellbeing, by fighting hard and smart in every battle to prevent unnecessary deaths, by ensuring peace was reached between Aoba Johsai and Karasuno, by striving harder and harder every day to be the best leader he could be for their country. He would have done these things anyway – it was in his blood to want to succeed, to be the best – but it had the additional bonus of offsetting what Iwaizumi referred to as his terrible personality.

A terrible personality that thanked God for deigning it fit to saddle Iwaizumi with Oikawa since birth, despite all the hardships he’d caused him over these past two decades. A terrible personality that thanked God Iwaizumi had turned out to be only sexually attracted to men, so Oikawa never had to worry about Iwaizumi having a family of his own one day. A terrible personality that had forced Iwaizumi to hear him bed women for two years, simply because Oikawa had needed the reassurance that Iwaizumi’s heart wasn’t faltering, and that it wouldn’t despite whatever hell Oikawa put him through.

 _In what universe does someone like me deserve someone like you?_ Oikawa smiled wryly and closed his eyes to settle back into sleep, comforted by the thought that Iwaizumi wasn’t aware of just how much he was worth so maybe Oikawa could keep him forever.

* * *

Oikawa didn’t wake to an empty bed as he usually did when he and Iwaizumi spent the night together. Instead, he woke to hot breath against the back of his neck and a finger slick with balm pressing against his entrance.

“Iwa --” Oikawa began before his voice was abruptly cut off by a moan as that finger pushed inside him.

“Shhh…” Iwaizumi whispered into his ear before biting it. Oikawa buried his face in the bicep curled under his head to stifle his gasp. As Iwaizumi’s finger began to move in and out Oikawa rolled forward enough so his now raging erection found some much-needed stimulation against the rough bedsheets. It was the first time Oikawa felt grateful he wasn’t sleeping on silk sheets – none of those to be found in the army barracks.

Oikawa desperately grasped at the sheets beneath him as Iwaizumi added a second finger. He was now far beyond the point of caring why Iwaizumi was doing this so uncharacteristically. They’d never done such a thing in the morning – usually Iwaizumi was long gone. Then again, usually they weren’t in Iwaizumi’s room.

Oikawa hips jerked as Iwaizumi hit that one spot that always made Oikawa wild with want and Iwaizumi pressed open-mouthed kisses along Oikawa’s shoulders and neck. He felt that familiar desperation claw at his hollow insides and bit down into Iwaizumi’s bicep when Iwaizumi added a third finger, stretching Oikawa wide. Iwaizumi gasped in pain and pressed hard against that spot inside as a reprimand that felt more like a reward. Oikawa’s cock rubbed sticky wetness into the sheets as he writhed and trembled, straining for more. Always more, when it came to Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi, knowing Oikawa’s body as well as he did, knowing the meaning of every different breath and sigh and gasp and moan, shifted his body to prepare to give Oikawa what he craved, what he always craved. More of Iwaizumi. Everything he could get.

Iwaizumi’s knee slid between Oikawa’s legs and lifted to open him up. Oikawa inhaled deeply through his nose as the movement caused his entrance to gape in a way it hadn’t before. Iwaizumi pulled Oikawa against the firm, burning skin of his chest, braced Oikawa’s thigh with his large, capable hand, wrapped his other arm around Oikawa’s chest and drove into Oikawa in one thrust.

Oikawa eyes closed in relief at finally being filled again, finally having Iwaizumi where he belonged, finally feeling complete again, as he did every time Iwaizumi sunk inside him like he was coming home. Oikawa’s body should have been stiff with disuse but instead it relaxed around Iwaizumi, accepting him, holding him.

 _This is where he belongs_ , Oikawa thought as Iwaizumi bit into his shoulder, as he anchored himself in and around Oikawa. He never felt as safe as he did right then, with Iwaizumi surrounding him like a shield, filling all his empty spaces, soothing his perpetual restlessness. Oikawa only ever felt still, his mind only ever went silent, when he was with Iwaizumi like this.

Iwaizumi’s hand left Oikawa’s thigh to grip his aching length and he stroked Oikawa leisurely, in time with his deep thrusts. Oikawa liked it this way best, when Iwaizumi never left his body, when he and Iwaizumi writhed against each other in a bid to get as deep as possible. Oikawa wanted to feel Iwaizumi’s imprint on his insides, wanted Iwaizumi’s mark on every part of himself, wanted to be completely consumed. He never had done obsession half-heartedly.

Oikawa raised his arm behind him to fist into Iwaizumi’s hair, gripping the short strands tightly and pulling. Iwaizumi moaned deeply against his skin and held Oikawa tighter, thrust deeper, his pulls on Oikawa’s length quickening. A satisfied smile flitted across Oikawa’s face. He would never accept anything less than everything Iwaizumi had to give, especially in bed.

Oikawa breathed and focused on every feeling, every sound, every touch, every sensation. The urgency residing just under the surface of their passion unsettled him. Iwaizumi’s grip on his shoulder was a touch too crushing, the flex of his hips a touch too frantic. Oikawa found himself caught up in it as slow turned into quick, as giving turned into taking.

Pleasure climbed rapidly towards its crescendo as they moved violently against each other, as they grasped at each other wildly, as passion overtook all forms of thought and sense, unhinged their baser instincts. Oikawa came first, hips stuttering as he gasped and spilled all over Iwaizumi’s hand. Iwaizumi followed close behind, moaning low and deep, and Oikawa experienced a pang of regret that he couldn’t see Iwaizumi’s face as he did, because Iwaizumi climaxing looked just as good as Iwaizumi smiling. It was better, even, because unlike Iwaizumi’s smile Oikawa was the only one who’d ever seen it. The only one who ever would.

They slowly relaxed against each other as their spasms faded, loosening grips and untangling limbs. Oikawa winced and suppressed a sad sigh as Iwaizumi slowly withdrew from him. That was always his least favourite bit, the feeling of Iwaizumi leaving. He disliked the symbolism his mind had decided to attribute it, especially now that it was more pressing than ever before.

Iwaizumi rolled over onto his back as Oikawa gingerly sat up. He was going to be sore for days after that. _Good,_ he thought with a small smile. He liked it best when there was a reminder in every movement.

“Morning,” Iwaizumi said with a smile playing on his lips and eyes full of humour and light. Oikawa felt his lips tilt upwards in answer and all thoughts of questioning Iwaizumi’s uncharacteristic actions were immediately abandoned. Getting Iwaizumi into a light mood was as difficult as pushing a boulder up a hill and getting him out of it was as easy as pushing it down the other side. Oikawa didn’t want to upset the balance on the top of the hill. He decided it didn’t matter why Iwaizumi had done it, why his actions had been urgent and frantic, because nothing could possibly be bad if it made Iwaizumi smile.

Besides, Oikawa had an inkling Iwaizumi had done it because Oikawa was meeting his future wife later that morning. He had an inkling Iwaizumi had wanted him to feel the ghost of Iwaizumi inside him when he walked forward to greet his bride-to-be, to feel a twinge of pain from the bite on his shoulder as he bowed to kiss her outstretched hand.

Oikawa’s smile grew as it slowly transformed from one of affection to one of sly satisfaction. Iwaizumi had never shown any signs of possessiveness or jealousy before, despite all of Oikawa’s best attempts to pull it out of him. It was never fun being the only possessive one. But then his smile dropped completely as he remembered why – he was getting married. Perhaps Iwaizumi was only feeling so possessive and jealous because he thought their relationship would change after the wedding. Oikawa frowned; Iwaizumi did have some very traditional views on marriage, no doubt due to his parents’ mess of one.

Oikawa had never had a problem respecting Iwaizumi’s feelings on the matter because he respected Iwaizumi and wanted Iwaizumi to respect him…and he hadn’t wanted to be punched again. Besides, no longer sleeping with married women hadn’t been a problem because there had always been plenty of unmarried ones. And that had all stopped once he’d first taken Iwaizumi inside him anyway. As much as he loved women and their soft, curving bodies he’d known none of them could compare anymore, none of them could give him what Iwaizumi did. And he hadn’t needed them anymore anyway – he’d gotten what he wanted.

 _Well, almost_. Iwaizumi still held back, but that had always been okay because Oikawa knew Iwaizumi wouldn’t allow himself to come to Oikawa otherwise. The reason why he’d held back had never bothered Oikawa until now. Until he realised that Iwaizumi had held himself back because of this. Because Oikawa would be married. Because Iwaizumi likely assumed they’d stop after that happened and wanted to ensure he was able to let go, move on. Be okay.

Oikawa scowled. He didn’t like that. Not one bit. He also didn’t like that he was questioning his next natural course of action. Usually he’d have no compunctions about steamrolling over Iwaizumi’s hesitance, but he only did that when Iwaizumi was being unnecessarily stubborn. Like when he’d refused to do anything about his feelings for _two whole years_ , despite all of Oikawa’s pushing and prodding. But this? This felt like something else. Something more. It felt like it was maybe in the same category as why Oikawa had never asked Iwaizumi to make love to him until the night he’d found out about his engagement, had forced himself to be satisfied with mere fucking.

And if it was it meant Oikawa would have to let Iwaizumi make up his own mind about what their relationship would be after his marriage. And if he did that there was a very big chance Iwaizumi would choose his blasted moral high road over Oikawa.

“You look like you’ve swallowed something unpleasant,” Iwaizumi said with a half-smile as he looked up at Oikawa from his back, hands casually resting behind his head.

Oikawa flushed as he realised he’d gotten stuck in his head again and Iwaizumi had likely been watching the whole process. He turned a sharp grin on him. “But I haven’t swallowed Iwa-chan’s cum in years.”

Iwaizumi scowled immediately and reached up to squash Oikawa’s cheeks between his fingers. “Want to try that again, Assikawa?” he growled.

“Careful, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa whined through forcefully puckered lips. “This face is a national treasure, you know.”

“I’ll punch you,” Iwaizumi threatened darkly. But he also let go. Oikawa smirked; he knew how much Iwaizumi secretly liked his face.

“What did I just say, Iwa-chan? You should work on your listening skills. You have to have _something_ going for you.”

“Do you need all your fingers? My sword’s just over there.”

Oikawa gasped and clasped his hands against his chest protectively. “But Iwa-chan loves my hands!”

Iwaizumi looked at him blankly. “I love the idea of there being less of you in the world more.”

“Mean!”

“Hm…” Iwaizumi feigned thoughtfulness as he tapped a finger on his lips. “Maybe I could just slowly chip away at you over time so that nobody notices until all that’s left is that useless face of yours.”

Oikawa grinned darkly. “Useless? But you can still fuck a face.”

Iwaizumi turned bright red and hit Oikawa with his pillow. Oikawa laughed loudly. He loved how Iwaizumi shifted from shameless during their carnal activities to modest and bashful directly afterwards so radically. He also loved a blushing Iwaizumi. Blushing Iwaizumi was the cutest.

“You are such trash,” Iwaizumi grumbled, obviously trying to fight off the redness in his cheeks.

“What I am, Iwa-chan, is late,” Oikawa sang as he hopped out of the bed and cleaned himself with water from the basin in Iwaizumi’s room. “I’m expected to eat breakfast, wash, and be dressed and ready in two hours. I know my perfection is usually effortless, but I suppose Father wants me to strive for new levels of it today.”

“If only you didn’t strive for new levels of vanity too,” Iwaizumi sighed as he left the bed and quickly wiped himself over. He glanced out the window to ascertain the position of the sun. Oikawa had always found it impressive that Iwaizumi was able to tell the time of day by the sun, but he’d never let Iwaizumi know that of course. “Kunimi and Kindaichi should be here around about now. I’m sure Matsukawa and Hanamaki told them where you are.”

Oikawa shrugged carelessly and started dressing himself. He didn’t really much care about the details; it was Iwaizumi’s job to worry about them, not Oikawa’s. And he liked all his personal guards – that’s why he’d handpicked them. Though Oikawa had noticed that lately Kindaichi had been getting uncharacteristically flustered every time Iwaizumi spoke to him…

“Speaking of…” Iwaizumi started to say and Oikawa immediately stood to attention. It was the type of tone one did not ignore if one knew what was good for them. “Don’t come to the barracks again. It’s troublesome and dangerous.”

Oikawa decided to risk life and limb by narrowing his eyes at Iwaizumi in defiance. “Then don’t ignore me again.”

Oikawa had expected Iwaizumi to brush his words off and growl at him some more – or potentially follow through on that sword threat – but instead his face softened. He walked up to Oikawa and did up the last few ornate buttons on his coat.

“I know. I won’t. I promise.”

Oikawa relaxed. Iwaizumi always kept his promises. “It doesn’t feel right when you’re not with me, Hajime,” Oikawa said quietly.

Iwaizumi met Oikawa’s eyes in surprise. Oikawa knew why. He was flirting with Iwaizumi’s no-go zone, using Iwaizumi’s first name and openly hinting at what they were to each other. Oikawa found he didn’t care much right then. What did such meaningless boundaries matter in face of everything else that was happening to them? What was even the point anymore?

“Oikawa…” Iwaizumi started to say, his voice hesitant and unsure. Then a knock sounded on the door.

Oikawa sighed as Iwaizumi immediately snapped into Captain of the Royal Guard mode. He wouldn’t be getting anything out of him now.

“I’ll see you later, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa brushed his knuckles lightly along Iwaizumi’s cheek. He turned to leave and heard Iwaizumi inhale a pained breath before Oikawa opened the door to officially begin a day he wished had never come.

* * *

“Shouldn’t Tooru be here by now?”

Iwaizumi shifted in discomfort at the accusatory rhetorical question from Oikawa’s father, the King of Aoba Johsai, because yes, of course Oikawa should have been there by now. But Iwaizumi answered anyway because rhetorical or not, one did not ignore a question from the King. “Yes, your Majesty, he should be.”

“So why isn’t he? Not that I don’t appreciate the peace and quiet, but Shimizu-sama is due here in less than a half hour. I won’t have him late to meet his own damn fiancé.”

Iwaizumi bowed. “I apologise, your Highness. I will locate him and bring him here myself.”

The King narrowed his eyes – far too much like Oikawa’s – at him. “See that you do.”

Iwaizumi withheld a sigh as he walked towards the rest of his guard, standing in attention to the left of the courtyard steps. This was not a good time to have lost the man of the hour, and not only because the King was displeased by Oikawa’s probably-deliberate tardiness. The King’s personal guard were opposite them and watching Iwaizumi’s movements closely, observing and judging. There had been a deep-seated rivalry between the King’s and Oikawa’s personal guard for years, mirroring the tension between the father and son. Everyone knew that when Oikawa eventually ascended to the throne he’d be appointing Iwaizumi as the captain of the King’s guard and whether that guard accepted Iwaizumi’s leadership very strongly depended on how he conducted himself now.

 _So it’s a good thing they have no idea what Oikawa and I were doing this morning_ , Iwaizumi thought with a wry half-smile. Most men of the Aoba Johsai kingdom took their faith somewhat lightly, only really subscribing to it when it suited them, but Iwaizumi was sure most would find a sexual relationship between two men far too scandalous to accept.

 _So it’s a good thing this whole thing will likely be ending as soon as Oikawa is married,_ Iwaizumi thought with a frown before pushing the thought firmly aside. He wasn’t yet sure how he felt about that idea – whether that was something he thought should happen or didn’t care either way and continued on as it currently was. He needed to meet Oikawa’s future bride first, ascertain whether she was someone who Oikawa could love and who could love Oikawa and all his many intricacies, who could support Oikawa as he needed to be supported, in Iwaizumi’s place. If she was that someone, Iwaizumi knew he may have to step aside and allow the relationship to take its natural course. It couldn’t do that if Iwaizumi didn’t let Oikawa go.

If she wasn’t able to do that, if she were like far too many women who fell prey to Oikawa’s charisma and charm and let him do whatever he wanted because of it, then perhaps Oikawa would still need Iwaizumi. And perhaps Iwaizumi could still keep him.

 _Later. I’ll think about that later. After Oikawa meets Shimizu-sama._ Which wouldn’t be happening if Oikawa didn’t turn up soon. Iwaizumi sighed outwardly this time as he reached his men. He didn’t even need to say anything – of course they knew why he was there.

“I have no idea where Oikawa is,” Hanamaki said immediately.

“I know,” Iwaizumi replied wryly. “If you did, you would have wasted no time in telling me because you love watching me scold Oikawa.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call what you do to Oikawa _scolding_. It’s far more violent and entertaining than that,” Hanamaki replied unapologetically.

Iwaizumi huffed in exasperation and a little bit of humour before looking at Matsukawa, who was standing next to Hanamaki watching the exchange with his heavy-lidded eyes.

He shrugged under Iwaizumi’s questioning gaze. “Don’t look at me. I’m with Hanamaki on this one.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. Of course he was. “You’re with Hanamaki on most things.”

Matsukawa smiled serenely, refusing to rise to the obvious bait. Iwaizumi and Oikawa had been teasingly speculating about the nature of Hanamaki and Matsukawa's relationship for years, so he was far too accustomed to it by now. “I promise you’ll be the first to know when that changes, Iwaizumi-taichou, sir.”

Iwaizumi sighed heavily. Why was it that when Matsukawa referred him by his proper title it felt like an insult? What he had done to deserve such insubordinate lieutenants? At least the rest of the guard respected him a little more.

“Yahaba?” he asked, turning to the next man down the line. “Seen anything? Heard anything from Kunimi or Kindaichi?”

Yahaba mumbled “no, sir” but the flush on his cheeks definitely said “yes, sir.” Iwaizumi stared at Yahaba levelly and waited. It didn’t take long.

“Oikawa-sama told me not to say anything.”

Iwaizumi clenched his jaw to stifle his frustrated groan and resolutely ignored Hanamaki and Matsukawa scoffing beside them, their hands doing nothing to cover their sounds. “What’s he up to now?” he growled. Yahaba flinched. Iwaizumi tried again in a softer tone. “Tell me, Yahaba. I promise that you, Kindaichi and Kunimi won’t get in any trouble. Oikawa will have to get through me first. I know when something’s entirely his fault. It usually is.”

Iwaizumi’s so-called violent method of scolding Oikawa was apparently well-renown amongst his men because Yahaba visibly relaxed. “I passed them in first floor of the South Wing. Oikawa-sama was…uh…waylaid by some court ladies.”

This time Iwaizumi didn’t even bother to stifle his groan. He should have known it’d be something like this. _That stupid Shittykawa_. “Thank you, Yahaba,” Iwaizumi growled.

He spun around, ready to march to the South Wing and drag Oikawa here by his stupidly perfect hair if he had to, when Hanamaki’s voice reached him. “Have enough?”

Iwaizumi patted his bottom right coat pocket and felt the reassuring shape of a hard, smooth, round surface. He turned to Hanamaki with a sharp grin that made the other flinch. _Good_. “I have one. That’s all I need.”

* * *

Iwaizumi heard them before he saw them. There were about three women, judging by the volume and pitch of the feminine laughter, and one piece of trash. The sound of his smooth, light tones and fake laughter made Iwaizumi lovingly take the object from his pocket and caress it in his calloused fingers. He rounded the corner, happy to see Oikawa’s back to him. The women were too entranced by whatever idiotic expression Oikawa had painted on his useless face to take any notice of Iwaizumi, but Kunimi and Kindaichi – standing to attention off to the side and probably wishing they were anywhere else – sure did.

They stiffened, Kunimi’s face drained of colour, Kindaichi’s face flushed full of it and both opened their mouths but Iwaizumi silenced them with a finger to his lips. Then he raised the object – a beautifully smooth, round pebble – to his lips, kissed it for luck, sent up a quick prayer that God guide its righteous course, and then lobbed it at the back of Oikawa’s head.

He had to do it more softly than he usually would because it wouldn’t do for the Crown Prince of Aoba Johsai’s famous hair to be marred by blood the day he was to meet his fiancé. _Too bad_ , Iwaizumi thought regretfully. There was something so refreshing about seeing Oikawa’s hair less than perfect.

Iwaizumi watched with acute satisfaction as his projectile hit its intended target. Oikawa’s airy, irritating laughter cut short with a sharp yell. He ignored the concerned titters of the ladies and spun around, darkness clouding the fine features of his face.

_Hello there, real Oikawa._

As soon as Oikawa saw who’d thrown the projectile – really, he should have known before he’d even turned around because Iwaizumi had done this enough times – he froze. Iwaizumi didn’t know what his face looked like to inspire such a reaction, but he wasn’t about to question it when it worked so damn well.

Oikawa spun back around to the ladies, rubbing the back of his head and issuing smiling apologies. Iwaizumi turned on his heel and started walking away. Oikawa would catch up to him.

Sure enough, a few seconds later… “Iwa-chan! Wait for me!”

Iwaizumi didn’t wait.

A few second after that… “Iwa-chan, you can’t just attack me then ignore me like that!” Oikawa whined as he fell into step beside Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi raised an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean I can’t? I just did. Would like to continue doing it, so shut up.”

Oikawa pouted. “I can’t help that I’m so popular, Iwa-chan. There’s no need to be jealous.”

Iwaizumi sneered. “If I’m jealous of anything it’s of their ability to actually enjoy being in your presence. I need to ask them how they do it one of these days.”

Oikawa laughed breezily. Iwaizumi felt his fingers spasm, the urge to wrap them around Oikawa’s frustratingly graceful neck increasing with every second.

“That’s easy, Iwa-chan! It’s because I’m so handsome, see?” He turned his blinding smile onto Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi’s eye twitched in annoyance. That smile was impressive, sure, but it wasn’t Oikawa’s real smile, therefore it did nothing for him.

“All I see is a face my fist wants to punch.”

Oikawa frowned in disappointment. “Don’t you think you’ve been violent enough, Iwa-chan? My head already feels like it’s got a hole right through it.”

Iwaizumi scoffed. “Don’t be dramatic.” Then he remembered who he was talking to and tried again. “It was a pebble. You’ll live.”

“In excruciating pain.”

“It was a _pebble_.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of the story of David and Goliath, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asked pointedly.

Iwaizumi sighed longingly. “If only I _could_ kill you with a pebble to the forehead.”

“So you _do_ see the parallels,” Oikawa replied, only selectively hearing Iwaizumi’s words as always.

Iwaizumi looked at Oikawa evenly. “If by parallels you mean I am the man of God doing His work by taking down the evil Philistine giant and thereafter becoming the saviour of the land, then yes.”

Oikawa scowled. “I meant the giant part.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “Five centimetres of extra height does _not_ make you a giant compared to me, dumbass.”

Iwaizumi was naturally expecting some kind of vain retort, so when one didn’t come he turned to look at Oikawa, only to see him studying the floor intently as he walked.

 _Off in his head again._ Iwaizumi had known, of course, that Oikawa stopping to talk to court ladies on such an important day was no coincidence. He wouldn’t be surprised if it had been Oikawa to address them first and not the other way around because when Oikawa was presented with a situation he wasn’t comfortable with, wasn’t confident about, he avoided. At least until he figured out a plan of action. Apparently he was still trying to find one.

Iwaizumi stopped walking. Oikawa didn’t. “Oikawa.”

Oikawa halted and lifted his head, blinking in surprise when he realised he was a few paces ahead of Iwaizumi. “Huh?”

Iwaizumi wanted to smile because confused Oikawa was adorable and looked entirely innocent – pretty much the only time he could ever be considered anything so pure as _innocent_ – but he sighed instead because Oikawa didn’t need to be lost in his head right now. He needed to be the Oikawa Iwaizumi liked the least, the one he’d been with those women just a few minutes earlier. He needed to be charming Oikawa, smiling Oikawa, Crown Prince Oikawa. Not real Oikawa, who was uncertain, who questioned his every decision a dozen times, who hardly ever thought he was enough, who thought that if he didn’t act a certain way nobody would love him, who loathed the idea of being seen as weak, who studied world history and negotiation methods and past battles well into the night so he wouldn’t feel inferior to those to whom such skills came naturally.

That was the Oikawa Iwaizumi loved; the one who needed him. At least until now, until someone else entered the equation and became something Iwaizumi could never be – a true equal, a true partner.

 _Later. I’ll think about that later,_ he reminded himself.

Iwaizumi looked behind him at Kunimi and Kindaichi, who had been following at a respectful distance. “You two go on ahead to the courtyard and tell his Majesty that Oikawa will follow shortly behind.”

Kunimi and Kindaichi bowed slightly in deference to Oikawa, who was looking at the ground again in favour of them, and did as Iwaizumi directed. Iwaizumi waited until they’d rounded the corner then he looked around and listened carefully for the sound of approaching voices. When all was satisfactorily clear he walked up to Oikawa, cupped his face in his hands and kissed him.

Oikawa stiffened in surprise for all of a second before he relaxed and opened his mouth, inviting Iwaizumi’s tongue into the warm cavern of his mouth. Iwaizumi had only intended for it to be a brief kiss – one for comfort, one to jolt Oikawa back into real world – but as soon as he felt Oikawa’s tongue slide along his own it became something else entirely.

Something wild and intrinsically physical. Something full of want and need. Something like the way Iwaizumi had moved inside Oikawa in the early hours of that very morning. Something that took more than it gave. Something selfish and just a little bit desperate. Something that mirrored the way Iwaizumi hadn’t been able to help but feel when he’d awoken that morning to the site of Oikawa in his bed – _in his sheets_ – and remembered what the day would bring. Something Iwaizumi couldn’t help but feel now as he revelled in the taste of the man he loved and wondered how much longer he’d be allowed to do this, if there would soon come a day when he’d never be able to taste Oikawa on his lips, feel him on his tongue.

And so he devoured Oikawa as they stood in the middle of the corridor, because of all those somethings. Or perhaps regardless of them. And Oikawa let himself be devoured, as he always did. He opened himself and took whatever Iwaizumi saw fit to give.

But this was Oikawa, so he ever demanded more.

Iwaizumi gasped into Oikawa’s mouth when Oikawa reached down between them and gripped Iwaizumi firmly in one slender, fine-boned hand. Iwaizumi had always loved Oikawa’s hands, and never more so than when they were on him.

“Hajime…” Oikawa sighed into the heated air, heaving breaths filling the space between their lips, forehead against forehead.

Iwaizumi gripped his hand into Oikawa’s infuriatingly perfect hair, kissed him hard enough to bruise and ground himself against Oikawa’s willing palm once, twice, before stepping back, creating distance neither of them wanted but both desperately needed.

Oikawa’s hand dropped lifelessly to his side as he stared at Iwaizumi in a daze, lips kiss-red and swollen, cheeks flushed, eyes wide. Iwaizumi grit his teeth to stop the moan rising in his throat. Had Oikawa ever looked so beautiful as he did right then, stunned with passion and want, all of it because of – all of it _for_ – Iwaizumi?

Iwaizumi swallowed deeply, swallowed down the need and ache caused by the words he longed to say. Would never say. Especially not now. Because now Oikawa had to go to the courtyard. To meet his fiancé. Who he would marry in less than a month. Who would become his _wife_.

_Later! I’ll think about this later!_

He cleared his throat and looked to the side because if he looked at Oikawa a second longer he wouldn’t be able to leave. “We should get going. You’re late.” His tone was cold and harsh because he feared what his voice would reveal if he let it be any other way.

“Iwa-chan…”

Iwaizumi’s gaze snapped back to Oikawa because voice sounded far too broken. Iwaizumi winced because he knew he was at least partly responsible for it. _This is what being selfish gets me._

“Tooru,” Iwaizumi said softly, trying to keep his tone purely comforting – what his kiss should have but certainly hadn’t been.

Now it was Oikawa who looked away. “I don’t want to.” Iwaizumi’s breath caught in his chest. Oikawa had obviously tried to achieve his typical whiny tone, but Iwaizumi could hear the true fear woven through it.

Iwaizumi had no idea if he was doing the right thing, if this would hinder instead of help just like everything else he’d attempted lately, but he couldn’t help but lift his hand to trace the curve of Oikawa’s face with his fingertips. It was something he’d only ever allowed himself to do while Oikawa slept.

It was Oikawa’s turn to catch his breath as he stared at Iwaizumi in question.

“I know. But you have to, Tooru.” Oikawa’s nose scrunched up in displeasure. Iwaizumi’s mouth tipped up into what was probably a stupidly fond smile and he brushed is thumb across the wrinkles. He knew the symbolism wasn’t lost on Oikawa when Oikawa’s eyes met his in surprise.

 _Careful. You’ll get wrinkles._ Oikawa’s common refrain to Iwaizumi throughout their life together. Iwaizumi watched as Oikawa tried to fight off his own smile, felt the twitch of the muscles under his fingers as he trailed them down Oikawa’s jaw.

“You’ll be okay,” Iwaizumi stated assuredly and dropped his hand. He believed it too; Oikawa had always managed to turn any and every situation around to his favour.

Oikawa’s too-big eyes blinked at him. “Will you?”

 _No. No, I don’t think I will be._ An emotion that felt a lot like panic constricted Iwaizumi’s throat, but he pushed it down because it had never mattered if he was okay. He didn't need to be okay as long as Oikawa was. 

“It doesn’t matter, idiot,” Iwaizumi grumbled and went to brush past Oikawa, but Oikawa grabbed his wrist firmly.

“It matters to me,” Oikawa stated, voice deep and sure. It was the tone he used the rare times he was completely serious; the times he was openly asserting his will. He usually only used it when he was in battle. He’d always said that it was best to reserve it for the times he really wanted an answer, really wanted to be obeyed, because overuse might lessen its effect. Iwaizumi had always thought it was because Oikawa had made a bad habit out of hiding who he really was.

 _He’s not going to accept some bullshit answer right now,_ Iwaizumi decided so he evened out his expression, swallowed the cloying panic, and looked at Oikawa dead in the eyes.

“I’ll be okay,” he lied.

For some reason his answer caused Oikawa to scowl darkly, but he all he said was, “Well, now that’s settled let’s go meet the future Queen of Aoba Johsai!”

Iwaizumi straightened his posture as he fell into step beside Oikawa. “It would be rude of us to keep such an important person waiting.”

Oikawa hummed in agreement before turning the sound into an annoying melody as they walked briskly towards their destination. Iwaizumi bit back a smile at Oikawa’s antics. _What a silly guy._

Suddenly, everything did feel okay. Until Iwaizumi remembered, once again and all too soon, where they were going and why.

_Later. I’ll think about that later._

* * *

It was later, after Shimizu-sama had arrived in full regalia with an impressive guard and a host of ladies’ maids behind her. After the King and Oikawa had moved forward to greet them. After Oikawa had smiled brightly over Shimizu-sama’s hand and kissed it with his usual theatrics. After Shimizu-sama had looked at him blankly in response. After Oikawa had made one of his stupid jokes that had made everyone around him laugh, everyone except the King and Iwaizumi. And Shimizu-sama.

After Iwaizumi had seen how beautiful Shimizu-sama was; how graceful and fine and soft and all the things men seemed to love about women and all the things Iwaizumi wasn’t. After Iwaizumi had seen Oikawa’s gaze fixate on the mole resting beneath Shimizu-sama’s lips. After Iwaizumi had seen Oikawa’s eyes flare with interest when it became undeniably clear that Shimizu-sama was not impressed by him in the least. After Shimizu-sama had addressed Oikawa and the King in a clear, sure voice that had displayed her obvious intelligence and revealed an undertone of authority and confidence. After she’d said something – too softly for Iwaizumi to make out – that had made Oikawa smile. Genuinely smile.

It was later and Iwaizumi was sitting on his bed – head in his hands, evidence of his and Oikawa’s lovemaking still on the sheets, the scent of Oikawa permeating the air – and wondering how it was that he’d lost the man he loved in the space of a few minutes.

Because Shimizu-sama was everything Iwaizumi had hoped and feared she’d be. Because Oikawa could fall in love with someone like her. Would. _Should_. Because even if Oikawa still wanted him, it wouldn’t be for the right reasons – it would be because Iwaizumi was comfortable, a habit he couldn’t be bothered breaking. Because soon enough, Oikawa wouldn’t need Iwaizumi anymore. Because soon enough, Iwaizumi would no longer have a reason to do what they never should have in the first place, be what he never should have become at all.

He so badly – _so badly_ – wanted to tell Oikawa to continue to rely on him anyway, that he would continue to be anything and everything Oikawa needed, that he didn’t need a wife, didn’t need Shimizu-sama. He _so badly_ wanted to tell Oikawa to only utilise Shimizu-sama for the duties Iwaizumi himself could not biologically provide and leave everything else to Iwaizumi like he’d always done. He _so badly_ wanted to tell Oikawa not to change anything about their relationship at all.

And he might have – he really might have – if he’d been convinced such an arrangement was the best option for Oikawa. He’d might have been selfish and not cared even if it wasn’t Oikawa’s best option, but merely a decent one. And while it didn’t sit well with him, he might have even refused to care about Shimizu-sama’s potential feelings in the matter, refused to care if such an arrangement caused her hurt or discomfort, which went against everything he wanted to be as a person.

He might have done all these things if they didn’t deny Oikawa anything, didn’t harm him in any way, because that was the one thing Iwaizumi could never, would never, do. Not willingly. But they did.

Because how could he deny Oikawa the chance at a real family? The chance at a relationship in which his partner was his social and intellectual equal? The chance at a relationship Oikawa didn’t have to hide like a dirty secret? Iwaizumi didn’t mind being the dirty secret, but he resented that Oikawa had to have one in order to be with him. He wanted more than that for Oikawa because despite all the things Oikawa felt about himself, Iwaizumi knew he deserved more. He deserved more than Iwaizumi could give him. He deserved all the best things the world had to offer.

Iwaizumi was a mere knight. And a man. He was a commoner, elevated to some degree of social status only though luck and coincidence, not because he deserved it. Not because God had deemed him worthy to be born into such privilege. Not like Oikawa was. Iwaizumi could give everything and it still wouldn’t be enough.

He’d always known it, but it hadn’t mattered so much because there hadn’t been any other option. And now there was. And Iwaizumi had to step aside. He had to.

But he knew, in the very depths of his soul he could not deny, that if Oikawa asked to continue their relationship as it was, he wouldn’t say no. Because he had great strength of will, but not that great. Because he was a good man, but not that good. Because he had a large capacity for selflessness, but not that large.

But Oikawa had to ask him. No. Oikawa had to _order_ him, like he always had done. Because if it was left up to Iwaizumi, he would choose Oikawa’s wellbeing every time. But if it wasn’t a choice at all, perhaps he wouldn’t have to take responsibility for whatever the outcome was. Perhaps that could be on Oikawa’s shoulders instead, because it was a choice Oikawa had made, not Iwaizumi.

Because Iwaizumi was a coward. And a fool. Because how could he expect Oikawa to choose him when he could choose so much better?

* * *

Oikawa lazily traversed the vast corridors of the castle, mood speculative but tentatively positive. He’d just met his future wife and had a lot to consider. He decided to start at the superficial and, therefore, least important aspect.

Kiyoko was stunning, so that was a bonus. He hadn’t really known what to expect – hadn’t really thought enough about it to get to the stage of expecting anything in particular. Intentionally so. Thinking too much about the whole thing had just made him want to saddle his mare E.T. and flee the country. With Iwaizumi, of course. So that Kiyoko – that name was too long, he’d have to come up with a shorter one – was stunning was a pleasant surprise. It didn’t really make the idea of marrying her any better except that he supposed the whole consummation and producing-an-heir business would be maybe slightly less unpleasant. _Maybe_. He’d never tried to bed a woman he wasn’t attracted to before, so he wasn’t quite sure how it’d go. But that was an issue for later. He didn’t have to start thinking about such disagreeable things for another few weeks yet.

She was quite obviously extremely intelligent. It was in the way her eyes coolly observed everything around her, cataloguing every movement, every word, to be dissected at a later time. Oikawa recognised it because that was what he did. He hadn’t been expecting his wife to be his intellectual equal, nor so equally well-spoken. She favoured intensity over his carefree charm, but the result was the same. All eyes were drawn to her, all ears perked up at the sound of her voice. He liked that she was more understated – it would balance him out well when they eventually ruled together. He needed a queen who could hold her own but not outshine him.

She also seemed rational and level-headed and, somewhat annoyingly, not affected by him whatsoever. It would have been nice to get his way _sometimes_ , at the very least. Still, all signs pointed to her being the kind of Queen he’d always wanted for his kingdom. Basically the complete opposite of his too-beautiful, vain, selfish, self-centred, narcissistic, vapid, useless mother. He didn’t blame her for being what she was, to an extent. Their society valued female beauty over intellect, made it so the only way they could get ahead was to be born privileged or born beautiful or born both and use that to get to a place of security and comfort. So that’s what his mother had done. And he supposed he had her to thank for his face because while his father wasn’t anything to sniff at, whatever that insufferable boor of a man had going for him physically looked worthless every time he stood next to Oikawa’s mother. Oikawa had long since learned that a good face wasn’t a weapon only women could wield to get ahead.

What he could blame his mother for was what she’d done with the power she had attained through her beauty and propensity towards seduction. Which was nothing but demand more; more dresses, more jewels, more ladies-in-waiting, more servants, more silks, more everything except anything that was for the good of the rest of her sex or for the good of those less fortunate than her.

So Oikawa, knowing from a young age that he would have a wife one day, had determined to never have one like her. He’d found out at a slighter older age that he wouldn’t be getting a choice in the matter, so he considered himself extremely fortunate that the kind of wife he’d always wanted seemed to have fallen directly in his lap.

The only problem with her was that she was not Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi, whose face had lost all colour at the sight of Kiyoko's beauty. Iwaizumi, who had looked faint upon seeing how intelligent and capable Kiyoko was, and how completely unaffected she was by Oikawa. Iwaizumi, who apparently thought a well-placed mole could be more appealing than the coppery hue of his skin, than the hard ridges of his abdomen, than the high, wide curve of his bicep, than the sharp point of his left incisor. Iwaizumi, who apparently thought he could be so easily replaced.

Oikawa shook his head in exasperation before grinning darkly. He’d just have to show the idiot how irreplaceable he was. With his body. Continue what Iwaizumi had started earlier that day in the middle of the South Wing main corridor, working Oikawa up to the point he’d entirely forgotten where he was – who he was. It hadn’t mattered.

Oikawa wanted to feel that again. Like nothing but that moment mattered, like there was no one else in the world but the two of them. No crown, no duties, no war, no responsibilities, no _wife_.

He stopped and turned to face the two guards who had been trailing him even since he’d left the courtyard. “Where’s Iwaizumi? He left before I could ask him where he was going.” No doubt to go somewhere and not be okay, to decide something stupid. It was Oikawa’s solemn duty to prevent such a catastrophe. He always told Iwaizumi not to think too much, that he just wasn’t made for it, but Iwaizumi always thought he was joking. He wasn’t.

“Uh…I believe he was heading to the barracks, Oikawa-sama,” Kunimi answered, only slightly unnerved about being addressed so casually by him. They hadn’t even been in his guard for a quarter of a year yet, so it was natural for them to be nervous. They’d be on Mattsun and Makki’s level of comfort soon enough, so Oikawa revelled in their fear and trembling while he could.

“Why don’t you run on ahead and tell Iwaizumi I want to meet him in my chambers immediately,” Oikawa ordered lightly with a shooing motion of his hand. “If he says he won’t come, tell him I’ll just go to his room again.”

Kunimi blinked at him in surprise and not a little bit of fear, probably at the concept of relaying such a message to his commanding officer. Oikawa laughed. If anything, Kunimi looked more terrified.

“Don’t worry, my dear kouhai, Iwaizumi isn’t known to kill the messenger.”

This also did nothing to reassure the poor boy, so Oikawa tried again. “He’s all bark and no bite.” Then he rubbed the back of his head. He didn’t care what Iwaizumi said about it being just a pebble, he could swear he still felt the imprint of it in his skull. “Well, not usually.”

Kunimi was almost trembling at this point and Oikawa saw it for the lost cause it was. “You’ll be fine. Go on now.” He tried the shooing motion again. It seemed to work; Kunimi bowed hastily and scurried off.

“That was fun,” Oikawa sighed happily as he resumed walking.

“Did you…say something, Oikawa-sama? Is there something you wanted me to do?” Kindaichi asked timidly from behind him.

Oikawa laughed lightly, about to dismiss Kindaichi’s concern, but thought of something far better to do instead. “Yes, in fact there is, Kin-chan. May I call you Kin-chan? Of course I can. Come walk beside me, Kin-chan.”

“Um…yes, Oikawa-sama,” Kindaichi replied uneasily and matched his pace with Oikawa’s.

“I find myself in need of a second opinion, Kin-chan,” Oikawa said cheerfully, smiling easily at Kindaichi.

“I will endeavour to help however I can, Oikawa-sama,” Kindaichi replied seriously.

_Well, isn’t he a bit cute despite that aggressive exterior and ridiculous hair. How annoying._

“You see, Kin-chan, I’m trying to figure out what I think of my future wife. It’s such an important issue, so I feel I must do my due diligence and seek out alternative opinions to my own. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I…I agree completely, Oikawa-sama, though I fear I’m not qualified to…”

“Nonsense!” Oikawa brushed off his concerns with a dismissive wave of his hand. It’s not like he was actually going to take Kindaichi’s opinion seriously – that wasn’t what he was looking to get out of this at all. “So, Kin-chan, what do you think of Shimizu-sama? Do you find her beautiful?”

Kindaichi gaped at him like a fish. It was hilarious. Oikawa only wished he was free to express his hysterics, but it was too early to give away the game.

“I…uh…I believe her to be quite beautiful, Oikawa-sama, though of course I would never presume to --”

Oikawa cut off his unnecessary refrains with another wave of his hand. He didn’t care about whether Kindaichi lusted after his future wife or not. In fact, it was because Oikawa was sure he did not that they were having this conversation. “Are you sure, Kin-chan? Because while all the other men had their eyes fixated on her in rapt fascination, you seemed entirely indifferent. Why is that, I wonder?”

Kindaichi flushed. It was a guilty flush, Oikawa decided as he observed him flailing about for an acceptable answer. “Never mind, Kin-chan. I already know the answer. Moving on.”

Kindaichi gulped nervously. Oikawa’s grin sharpened.

“She was quite stoic, wasn’t she, Kin-chan? I used my brightest smile, used up all my vast reserves of charm, yet it made no difference to Shimizu-sama whatsoever!”

“I…err…couldn’t possibly…”

Oikawa ignored him in favour of watching his eyes closely, ready for the impact of his next round of questions. “Doesn’t she remind you of someone, Kin-chan? Someone else who is stoic and firm and authoritative, someone else who doesn’t respond to my looks or charm at all? Someone like…” he paused for dramatic effect. He couldn’t help himself, “…Iwa-chan, perhaps?”

Kindaichi’s pupils expanded. _Got you_ , Oikawa thought triumphantly. The flush high on Kindaichi’s cheeks and on the tips of his ears only confirmed it. Kindaichi was attracted to his Iwa-chan. Most likely had a cute little crush.

 _How adorable,_ Oikawa thought, feeling disgusted. Not for the first time, he thanked the Heavens that Iwaizumi was so incredibly dense about these sorts of things. It wouldn’t do at all for him to realise how cute Kindaichi could look when he was blushing and stammering. Especially not with all the upheaval and unanswered questions between them.

Oikawa stopped walking and smiled at Kindaichi, but it was not one of his nice smiles. No, it was a smile that warned of terrible things to befall a person who didn’t heed what followed the smile. “What an interesting reaction, Kin-chan. That’s the kind of reaction you should have given at the thought of Shimizu-sama, not Iwa-chan. How very interesting indeed.”

Kindaichi’s entire face was red now. “I…I don’t…I wouldn’t…I mean…”

Oikawa held up his hand to stop him. As much as he found Kindaichi’s desperate floundering highly amusing, he wanted to wrap this up so he could go fuck Iwaizumi until neither one of them could walk properly. The desire to do so was even stronger now he’d discovered another threat, another person who had the potential – however small – to take Iwaizumi away from him. Oikawa had never known Iwaizumi to have a particular type, had never observed him tracking his eyes lustfully over anyone except Oikawa, but one could never be too careful.

“Say no more.” Kindaichi immediately shut his mouth.

Oikawa thought of how to word his threat in the ensuing silence. While everyone in his guard knew about the nature of his and Iwaizumi’s relationship – partly because of necessity, mostly because it was far too troublesome to hide – no one spoke of it openly. Oikawa didn’t care either way, but Iwaizumi obviously did and Oikawa would not be the one to break that rule. He didn’t need to, anyway.

“I trust you’ll conduct yourself with the upmost professionalism, Kin-chan. That’s one of the reasons I selected you from all the applicants, after all.”

Kindaichi stood to attention. “Yes, Oikawa-sama.”

Oikawa smiled in satisfaction. He’d achieved exactly what he wanted – he’d ascertained Kindaichi’s true feelings and effectively warned him away from Iwaizumi without having to resort to outright threats. Someone who knew what they were doing never had to resort to something so crass as outright threats.

“Excellent! Thank you for your help, Kin-chan!” Oikawa said, much to Kindaichi’s confusion, and was about to continue on to his chambers when he heard the one voice that always made him cringe.

“Tooru!”

His father.

Oikawa pasted a neutral smile on his face and turned to face the King of Aoba Johsai. “Father! To what do I owe this great pleasure?”

His father scowled at him as he drew closer, followed by no less than six guards. _And Iwa-chan calls_ me _dramatic._

“Stop lying, Tooru. You know it vexes me.”

Oikawa’s much-practiced smile didn’t falter. “Pretty much everything vexes you, Father, so you’ll forgive me if I’ve found I no longer have the energy to care.”

His father stopped before him, his men standing behind him in a V formation. Oikawa tried not to roll his eyes. _So dramatic._

“The only thing that vexes me is _you_.”

“I’d apologise for my very existence, but unfortunately I had no choice in being born. I believe that one’s on you.”

His father clenched his jaw. “I didn’t come here to argue with you.”

Oikawa’s smile widened. That was his father’s code for ‘I can’t think of anything to say to that’. It happened quite a lot, much to Oikawa’s acute pleasure. He cocked his head to the side and answered, “Well of course not. Why would anyone do such a thing?”

Oikawa watching his father count to ten under his breath in an attempt to reign in his temper. It was a marvellous thing to witness.

“I tracked you down to tell you that you’ll be accompanying Shimizu-sama to Mass tomorrow.”

“You came all this way to tell me something I already knew I’d be doing?”

His father narrowed his eyes at him. “And to tell you that immediately following you’ll be holding a private interview with Shimizu-sama in her receiving room. Just you, her, a lady’s maid of her choice, and one of your guards.”

 _Interesting._ “I’ll let Iwaizumi know.”

“Do, but let me clarify. One of your guards who _isn’t_ Iwaizumi will be accompanying you tomorrow.”

This time Oikawa was the one who narrowed his eyes. _Very interesting. And troubling._ “And why might that be? He is the captain of my guard, after all.”

His father scowled in displeasure. “Oh, I know very well what he is. And how that isn't _all_ he is.”

Oikawa froze. He couldn’t believe his father had just implied…

Of course he knew his father was aware of the nature of his and Iwaizumi’s relationship and Oikawa was sure it had always bothered him on some level, but he had never talked about it, never even hinted at it. Oikawa had figured his father would pretend ignorance for as long as the relationship didn’t affect him. And if he wasn’t pretending ignorance anymore, then…

“I assume you’re implying that because of _that_ there is a problem with him being present during the private interview tomorrow?” Oikawa asked carefully, fishing for information. He needn’t have been so subtle.

“Exactly. I know how you are, Tooru. You don’t care for propriety. I cannot trust that you’ll observe proper decorum in such a private setting. Usually I entrust Iwaizumi to maintain it for you, but Shimizu-sama is far more intelligent and observant than I expected her to be. His best efforts at controlling you may not be enough, for once.”

Oikawa felt fury bubble up in his chest. He tried to keep his tone light, but the white heat of his anger imbedded itself in every word. “So basically you don’t want Shimizu-sama to find out about it. And let me guess – because you fear she’ll break off the betrothal if she does?”

“It is part of the agreement that Shimizu-sama can break off the engagement for any reason at any time before the marriage takes place, as you know.”

“And you think _this_ would cause her to break it,” Oikawa said coldly because he didn't much care what either of them thought about it. He wouldn't allow anyone - not even the Pope himself - disparage Iwaizumi in any way.

His father’s lip curled up in revulsion. “I don’t see how it possibly couldn’t. Any normal person would be disgusted by such a thing. I highly doubt she’d want to be associated with it, much less _married_ to one of the complicit parties.”

Oikawa was beyond anger now. Now he was the calm in the eye of the storm. “It never bothered you before, so why are you getting up on your hypocritical high horse now?”

“ _Before_ the benefits outweighed the detriments. Iwaizumi has always been the only one who could keep you in line, much to my dismay. Even since you were children. Why else do you think I had him educated alongside you, groomed him to take over his late father’s place? You may not remember, but when you were five I tried to separate the two of you, sent you off to the summer castle to start your education. I finally recognised your friendship for what it was after your _ninth_ attempt to run away back to this castle, back to Iwaizumi. I figured letting it get to double digits would just make the situation reach a new level of ridiculousness, so I relented and had you brought back here and educated together.”

“I remember.” Of course he remembered one of the most disruptive and terrifying periods of his life. He hadn’t known how to exist without Iwaizumi, who had always been there. Still didn’t, which was why this conversation was filling his stomach with the black tar of dread.

“Back then, it was nothing but an innocent friendship. A dangerously co-dependent one, to be sure, but just a friendship. And Iwaizumi turned out to be a decent and hardworking man, and a wonderful knight. He made up for all the areas you fell short in. And you listen to him, God help me. He’s the only one you do listen to. So when your friendship turned into something entirely less innocent, I looked the other way. Of course there was always going to be the potential that it would become an issue when you eventually got married, but I hadn’t foreseen such an important treaty hinging on that marriage.

“A treaty _you_ negotiated,” Oikawa declared.

“Yes.”

“Because _you_ invaded Karasuno.”

His father’s gaze turned suspicious. “Yes.”

“Because _you_ thought they were in a state of disarray following the previous King’s death.”

“They were,” his father replied testily.

Oikawa ignored him. “Because _you_ thought could take advantage of it and expand our territory.”

“You know full well how the drought has affected our crops. We need more fertile land, like they have in Karasuno’s north provinces,” his father replied defensively.

Oikawa ignored him again and his tone darkened. “But then what was meant to be an easy campaign to gain a couple thousand miles of land turned into an almost four-year war.”

“It did,” his father replied, his tone questioning where Oikawa was going with all of this.

“A war we were on the brink of losing.”

“Yes.”

“Thousands of lost lives.”

“Yes.”

“All because of _you_ ,” Oikawa accused, bringing his point to a close.

His father clenched his fist. “I know full well where the responsibility for this mess lies, son, so if you’re trying to make me feel guilty, there’s no need. You may not think much of me but I at least take responsibility for my decisions. And one thing you’ll learn when you’re King is that quite often what you thought was the best decision turns out to be the worst. It’s part of the position, part of life.”

Oikawa smiled at his father then. It was his coldest smile, the one he reserved for those who displeased him most. It didn’t quite make his father flinch, but did make him blink in surprise. Oikawa decided he could be content with that.

“So why is it then, Father, that I am the one who must bear the burden of that responsibility?”

“Because another part of life is that it isn’t fair, Tooru!” His father snapped at him, temper hanging on by a mere thread.

“That’s the answer people give when they don’t have a legitimate one,” Oikawa snapped back, not even bothering to hide his acute displeasure now. It was rare that he lost his temper so with his father. He’d always preferred to feel superior by being completely composed and indifferent no matter what the King threw his way. But this was to do with Iwaizumi, so all his usual rules of conduct no longer applied.

“Sometimes. But sometimes that’s the answer people give when it’s the actual answer.” Oikawa opened his mouth to argue but his father talked over him. “Let me ask you something, Tooru. Were you – in all your infinite wisdom, in all your hours of scheming and planning – able to find an alternate solution? When Karasuno requested the marriage, were you able to offer them anything else they wanted in the place of it?”

It was Oikawa’s turn to clench his jaw in frustration. “No.”

“Perhaps your argument would have a stronger basis if I had denied you the opportunity to present an alternate solution, but I didn’t. There was simply nothing else to be done for it. It is what it is. Therefore, I will not tolerate anything that threatens this fragile peace.”

“And you think my relationship with Iwaizumi is one of those things,” Oikawa clarified, perhaps unnecessarily so, but he wanted to hear the confirmation from his father one more time.

“I do.”

“And what if I think otherwise?” Oikawa challenged with a savage baring of his teeth no one could call a smile.

His father bared his teeth back. “It doesn’t matter what you think, only what I think. That’s one of the perks of being King.”

“How very tyrannical of you, Father,” Oikawa replied flippantly.

The King glared in disapproval. “Don’t give me that deflective nonsense, Tooru. I’m serious.”

“Okay, then. Let me ask this seriously,” Oikawa challenged. “What will happen if I disobey? If I take Iwaizumi with me tomorrow to meet my future wife?” Finally, what he’d been getting at the whole time – what his father could actually do to him. Oikawa couldn’t think of anything that could possibly inspire obedience. That was why the King had kept Iwaizumi around this whole time, after all. Hadn’t he just admitted that himself?

Oikawa’s father stepped forward, so he was eye-to-eye with Oikawa, less than foot of space between them. Oikawa had always hated that his father was a few centimetres taller. It wasn’t noticeable unless he stood this close, unless he meant to intimidate.

“If I get word that you have done _anything_ to jeopardize this marriage, this treaty, and not just tomorrow. If you do _anything_ between this moment and the moment you say ‘I do’, it won’t be _you_ who will feel the brunt of my wrath.”

Oikawa inhaled sharply as fear – beyond the likes of which he’d ever felt before – stabbed at his chest. “You wouldn’t.” He hadn’t known his voice could reach such depths.

His father smiled at him and it was sharp and sure and everything Oikawa didn’t want to see. “I hear the northern border is particularly hazardous this time of year. Many a man is lost in the blinding white haze of those mountains. Some are just ill-prepared for the intensity of the weather when they go on their patrols, are found during the next one frozen solid. Some can’t quite make out the border markers in the inclement weather, accidentally cross over into hostile territory and are killed by Shiratorizawa’s men. Some simply go out and are never seen again. I wonder which category Iwaizumi would fall into if I sent him there.”

Oikawa didn’t want to fall into his father’s trap, didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. But his fear, his all-consuming terror, would not be denied.

“If you did such a thing you know I would never marry Shimizu-sama. I would never do anything you ever asked of me. Not ever again,” Oikawa whispered furiously.

“I know that, but I also know you won’t risk Iwaizumi’s life, won’t risk that I’ll follow through. Because you know I will.” He clapped Oikawa on his shoulder. Oikawa felt like ripping his father’s hand off. “Besides, relax a little, son. You only have to keep it up until the wedding. I don’t care what the fuck you do with your dick – or your ass – after then.”

And with that his father strode haughtily past him, his guard an impassive train behind him, leaving Oikawa standing mutely in the middle of corridor, completely at a loss.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, thoughts swirling furiously yet producing nothing of consequence, when Kindaichi cleared his throat from somewhere behind him. Oikawa had forgotten all about his presence, his concerns about the boy seeming so distant and inconsequential now in the face of the sheer and unabated terror that was the thought of possibly losing Iwaizumi forever.

“I’m sorry to…err…interrupt, Oikawa-sama, but Iwaizumi-taichou will have arrived at your quarters by now.” Kindaichi’s voice was small, hesitant, unsure if he was saying or doing the right thing. But the reminder of Iwaizumi’s presence was just what Oikawa needed to spur him into action. Or non-action.

“Thank you, Kindaichi.” He inhaled deeply and exhaled, mind made up. “There’s been a change of plans.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHY AM I SUCH A BAD PERSON! Satan (yes, that’s right – I’m not actually Satan) has a special spot carved out for me in hell, don’t you worry. I’m sure it’s extra toasty there too. 
> 
> ANYWAY, each chapter will have two songs, one for Oikawa and one for Iwaizumi. These are the songs I listened to on repeat while writing the chapter that I feel capture Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s feelings and/or mood during the chapter. Sometimes there are lyrics that are word-for-word something Iwaizumi or Oikawa would say or think, sometimes it’s more about the general mood of the song that fits. Either way, I highly recommend you check them out if you want even more feels as you read this fic. (yes I have found two songs for the entirety of this fic I’m so excited oh my god can’t even grammar)
> 
> Okay, so, one more thing. The ‘Medieval’ part of my Medieval/Fantasy AU may be a little more obvious in this chapter, but I’ll explain it in a bit more detail as it pertains to this fic in case some readers aren’t familiar with that period in history.  
> Basically, the narrative of the time was that the line of kings and nobles was chosen by God. Obviously most people now know that all that was bullshit thought up to make the royalty and nobility’s ridiculous privileges easier for the serfs and commoners to swallow, but that really was what the uneducated commoners believed. Now Iwaizumi is far from uneducated, but that narrative is definitely what he was taught by his piece-of-work of a mother and the Church since birth. So despite whatever failings Iwaizumi recognises in Oikawa, he never questions Oikawa’s position as somehow ‘above’ or superior to him because of this. Beyond that, he also believes Oikawa has the skills and ability to be a great king, so that’s why whenever he’s questioned his beliefs on this matter they’ve always held true – they continued to make sense to him because Oikawa is so capable. 
> 
> Also, the Catholic church at the time (and today, in most circles) was very against same-sex relationships. They were basically seen as an abomination against God. Now I’m not going to go into this much in my fic because I find such views abhorrent, but that was the prevailing ideology of the time. I won’t even allow Iwaizumi and Oikawa to think that about themselves because this isn’t a fic about struggling with sexual orientation – they’re both cool with that. Mostly because, for them, they don’t see how the way they feel about each other could ever be considered ‘wrong’. For Iwaizumi, if it is it’s only because of the ‘Oikawa is God’s chosen’ thing. 
> 
> And as is the case with a lot of religions these days, people who follow them can be pretty casual towards all the rules associated with it. This was especially the case for those in higher social positions, who were pretty much exempt from it all unless it benefited one of their enemies to call them out on it in the hopes they’d be excommunicated by the Roman Catholic Church (which basically meant they were going to Hell, so that was a Very Bad Thing to happen). So yeah, Catholicism is the basic religious structure of this AU World, but it’s only followed loosely (just like the history of that time haha).
> 
> Anyway, if you've managed to get through all of that - thank you for reading! I have a week off uni so I'm hoping to smash out the next chapter before I have to go back! Wish me luck!


End file.
